


Have Your Cake (and Eat It Too)

by Ramabear (RyMagnatar)



Series: Revolutionary [1]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!, Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Aggressive Flirtation, Alternate Universe - Tokyo Ghoul, Angst, Blood, Comedy, Dark Comedy, Ghouls, Gore, Human Hunting, M/M, Multi, Ring Battles, Sawada Iemitsu Being an Idiot, Slow-ish romantic progressions, Some with one eye most with two, Suicide, Surprise!Ghouls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-06-04 06:37:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 56,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6645415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyMagnatar/pseuds/Ramabear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the beginning, there was something odd about Namimori. In a world where every city had its own method of dealing with the bane of humanity that were ghouls, Namimori was the first place Reborn had ever been that felt safe to him. People were calm and unafraid on the streets, even after dark. It was remarkable and at first he thought it was due to the fact that Namimori's police force had some sort of foolproof guard against ghouls.</p><p>But then he noticed the distinct lack of graveyards. </p><p>By the time Reborn really understood what kept Namimori safe, it was too late to do anything about it. After all, the successor was being tutored, the guardians were chosen, and Xanxus was bearing down on them with half the Vongola rings and all of his wrath. All there was left to do was wait and see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. End of the Storm Battle and the Rain Battle

Hayato staggered out of the rubble, smoke rising in the air and the sounds of the explosions still echoing sound him. His foot slipped and he fell, face first, towards the ground. He flinched, fully expecting the concrete to hit him in the face, but the contact never came.

Arms caught him and held him off the ground. “Gokudera,” Tsuna said, his expression filled with relief, “you’re all right.”

“Sorry,” he croaked out, “I… I lost the ring.” Hayato looked down and away, mumbling, “I wanted to see the fireworks again…”

“Yeah,” Tsuna said. “Yeah of course.” He shifted his grip and asked, “Can you stand? C’mon.” He helped Hayato back up to his feet, steadying him when he swayed, and grinned. “You did great!”

The other teen flushed, “Thanks, but I still…” He bit his lip. Then, catching the way Tsuna stared at his mouth, he made himself stop and cleared his throat in embarrassment. Right, lip biting was one of the Tenth’s distractions. Hayato had to remember to look out for his boss, even when he was blown up half to hell. “Sorry, Tenth.”

Tsuna stepped back. He shook his head, “It’s more important to me that you live, Gokudera, than you get the ring. Do you understand? Your life is worth more than that.”

“Tenth…” Hayato blinked.

“It’s hardly worth anything at all, I think,” interjected a loud voice. Hayato flinched again, this time for the way Tsuna’s eyes darkened at those words and that voice. Tsuna’s face was set in a neutral expression when he turned around to face the members of the Varia that stood down the hall from them.

Superbi Squalo sneered at them, one hand resting as a fist on his hip. “But then bratty kids like you end up dead all the time, don’t they? Without managing to get the ring, your life is pretty worthless.”

Hayato opened his mouth to argue, but stopped at Tsuna’s hand. It squeezed his arm tightly and he shut his mouth with a click of his teeth. Tsuna relaxed his grip and spoke gently, “Gokudera’s life means more to me than his ring. He made the right choice in returning. I hope that all my guardians make the same decision if they are faced with the same situation.”

Tsuna glanced back to Hayato and said, “It’s probably selfish, but I’d be lonely if my friends threw away their lives in exchange for a bit of metal. I’d rather keep them by my side.”

“Tenth,” Hayato blinked hard. It was the fatigue from battle and the fading adrenaline that made his eyes water. Of course it was. He wasn’t about to- to cry in front of the Varia because of a few words. Of course not.

He put his hand over Tsuna’s on his arm and pressed down to show his conviction. “Of course. I’ll never forget that.”

“Ugh,” Squalo spat. “What a bunch of sentimental little brats.”

Tsuna ignored him completely, giving his attention instead to the Cervello. “Who fights in the next match?”

The identical women turn to face him. “The next match is between the rain guardians, Superbi Squalo and Takeshi Yamamoto.”

Tsuna, still at Hayato’s side, still his support beam, turned his head to look at Yamamoto. Hayato is drawn to look as well at the baseball freak who throws them an impossibly wide smile and laughs. “Yeah? Already? Nice. _Exciting.”_  

“You better win for the boss,” Hayato says, as threatening as he can manage on shaking legs. He points a finger at Yamamoto, “Take it _seriously._ I’m entrusting the victory of the next battle to you.”

Yamamoto obliges his angry finger pointing by stepping close enough for Hayato to prod him in the chest. He takes ahold of Hayato’s elbow, supporting him, grinning, “Of course! I’ll do the proper stretches and get a full meal before I fight.”

“Mmm,” Tsuna hums, so soft it’s like he’s talking to himself, not to either of them, “Maybe not a _full_ meal.”

Before Hayato can question why not -Yamamoto should be at the top of his form for the battle after all- there’s a crash of glass and an injured man is flung through the window to land against the far wall. He’s bleeding and catches everyone’s attention instantly. Hayato swallowed hard. Both Yamamoto’s and Tsuna’s hands on his arms dug in so tightly for a second he’s sure that they left bruises behind.

“There’s a …. Monster…” the man grunts, then gasps and coughs, “Broke through the perimeter….”

“Monster?” Squalo’s sneer has dropped and he turns to look to the window. Another one of the Varia, Levi if Hayato remembers right, goes to the man.

“What was that? What monster? A ghoul?” Levi asks the man. The only answer he gets is a wet, bloody cough.

“Don’t tell me,” Squalo narrows his eyes, “we’ve got a ghoul problem on top of all of this.” His gaze slid from the window, past Tsuna, towards Reborn. “Namimori has some sort of ghoul prevention society or some shit right? These battles can get bloody, even with brats like these ones. The last thing we need are those inhuman shits coming and getting in our damn way.”

“Mm,” Reborn says, his voice carrying surprisingly well in the otherwise silent hallway, “There is something like that in place, yes.”

“Takeshi,” Tsuna murmurs and steps away. Hayato sways, but is steadied by Yamamoto. He scowled at the other teen, but when he tried to pull away, he couldn’t break Yamamoto’s grip.

“Sorry,” he smiled, “Just let Tsuna take care of it, okay?”

“But ghouls are-” Hayato stops. The words catch in his suddenly very dry throat. Of course there are ghouls everywhere in the world but Namimori, well, Namimori had been different than Italy. He’d seen so little evidence that they lived in the area that for the first time in his life, Hayato hadn’t thought of them, hadn’t looked for them, hadn’t been afraid.

He’d gotten used to not looking over his shoulder. How many nights had he walked alone, without a stick of dynamite rolling between his fingers? And now he was covered in blood, weak, and-

Yamamoto shook him. “Hey now. Don’t forget to breathe okay? Don’t worry about it. Tsuna’s got it.”

Hayato opened his mouth again to say that _that was not a relaxing idea, okay._ The Tenth fighting against ghouls was utterly terrifying. He’d been training to survive against _Xanxus._ A ghoul would tear Tsuna apart.

“Hibari-san.”

Turning to look, Hayato saw Hibari step into view, his tonfas in hand. They were splattered with blood. A little of it flecked one of his cheeks, too, but when Hayato saw his eyes, they were white sclera and black irises. Human eyes. He relaxed a little. If there was any human that could pass as a monstrous ghoul, it would have definitely been Hibari.

“Sawada,” Hibari’s eyes settled on Tsuna and then moved past him towards Yamamoto. “And you.” He huffed out a breath, turned his chin to look at the Varia and said, “That’s right. The rings.” His lips twitched down into a scowl, “Unlawfully breaking into the school and vandalizing the premises is against regulations. Brawling is also prohibited within the school building.”

“We’re aware, Hibari-san,” Tsuna said quickly, raising his hands in a calming gesture. “The location was chosen by the Cervello for the ring battles.”

Hibari turned on his heel to look at the Cervello women. “The damages to the school will be repaired?”

“Yes. We’ve accepted that responsibility.” One of them said. The other simply inclined her head.

“VOI,” Squalo snapped, taking a few steps forward, “Who is this brat?”

Hayato shivered as Hibari’s gaze passed over him on its way back to the Varia, in particular Squalo. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “...Herbivore,” He muttered softly. “All of them?” There was another deep breath and then the barest of nods.

Hayato really wished he could _stop paying attention_ but dammit, Hibari was kind of terrifying and the whole scene was just. Off. Somehow.

“Are you the one who took out my subordinates?” Levi stood and asked. The man at his feet didn’t look like he was breathing anymore. “Are you the monster?”

“Please do not call Hibari-san a monster,” Tsuna’s voice was soft, but cutting. “He is the one who looks after Namimori and the citizens who live here. If your subordinates were attacked it is because they broke rules.”

“Hn,” Hibari shifted his grip on his tonfa. “If they belong to you then their crimes lie at your feet.” His lips twisted into a smile, “For that, I’ll bite you to death.”

“Yeah? Fucking try it you piece of shit!” Levi said, grabbing his weapons.

“Hibari-san,” Tsuna stepped in the way. Hayato lurched against Yamamoto’s grip, wanting nothing more than to help his boss in any way. His instincts screamed to get Tsuna out of Hibari’s way. He’d seen plenty of times how Hibari had gone after Tsuna, after anyone really, and it still brought cold shivers to Hayato’s spine. “Please calm down, okay? This is not the time to pick a fight.”

“That is correct,” A Cervello woman said, “If the guardians enter unregulated brawls outside of the scramble battle they will be disqualified.”

“Can you wait, Hibari-san?” Tsuna smiled at the taller teen, his hand still up, almost touching Hibari’s chest. “After all, what fun will it be if you get disqualified on someone who already fought his match? And you can’t fight the long haired one. That’s Takeshi’s prey.”

Hibari’s gaze never lowered from Squalo as he asked, “And mine?”

“Either that baby or the robot, whichever is their cloud,” Tsuna murmured. Hayato leaned forward, straining his ears to hear. It was in vain, though, because Tsuna’s words dropped below his hearing and his mouth was at an angle.

Whatever he said, though, made Hibari’s head jerk around to stare at him. And then he smiled. Goosebumps ran up Hayato’s arms at the expression. Glancing to Yamamoto, he muttered, “So, even he can smile huh?”

“Of course,” Yamamoto said, grinning. “We can all smile.”

“Acceptable,” Hibari withdrew, lowering his tonfas. “When?”

“After the final match,” Tsuna says, stepping back as well, “I’ll be pretty starving after all that exercise so dinner would be fantastic.”

“I know just the place to go,” Hibari said as he turned away. His dark eyes flit to Yamamoto for a moment. “Bite the long hair for his crimes.”

“Sure thing!” Yamamoto laughed, “I can do that.”

Hibari left without another word. Tsuna rubbed the back of his head as he gave a little bow to the Varia members. “Sorry about him. He gets temperamental in regards to destruction to Namimori and those breaking the rules. I’m sure he was just doing his regular patrols when he saw your men loitering.”

“Tch,” Squalo said, “Clouds. You stupid brats have a lot to learn, you really do. But we’ll continue this tomorrow.” He pointed at Yamamoto, “Don’t forget to show up, kid.”

“Oh believe me,” Yamamoto said, “I’m very excited about this match. I don’t think I’ll even be able to sleep tonight!”

“Takeshi,” Tsuna sighed in exasperation. “C’mon, let’s get Hayato home to Mama to bandage him up.”

He turned his back to the Varia, walking back towards the group. For a moment, Hayato thought he saw Squalo’s face twist in annoyance at the gesture, but ultimately he and the Varia left as well. Hayato sighed. Damn. He was really, really exhausted. It was good that Yamamoto was so strong and could help him walk.

Oh, and Ryouhei too. Hayato let his famiglia help him away from the school, confident that they could take care of him- even from the ghouls that hid in the shadows.

* * *

Xanxus was as terrifying as the rumors made him out to be. He sneered down at them, his tanned face twisted in his disgust as he spat, “Pathetic dogs should just disappear.”

Hayato’s heart was pounding in his chest and his body ached from his own match the day before, but there was no way he wouldn’t be there for the Tenth. He snuck glances to Yamamoto, but besides the weird goggles on his head and the metal bamboo sword on his shoulders, he looked completely normal.

“That’s their boss?” Ryouhei asks, brows furrowed together, “He is extremely tall!”

Tsuna cocked his head to the side, “He looks sweet.”

“S-sweet?” Hayato gasped out. He heard Dino make a similar noise of shock but Ryouhei and Yamamoto just looked _consideringly_ at Xanxus. Honestly, it was like he was a cake behind a glass window or something, the way they studied him. “T-tenth! He’s a fucking monster!”

Tsuna glanced at Hayato out of the corner of his eye. There was a disapproving frown on his lips that made him flinch. “He is not a monster. He’s just a man.”

“An extremely tall one!” Ryouhei repeated.

Yamamoto laughed. “You’ll have a lot of fun fighting him, won’t you, Tsuna?”

“Yeah,” Tsuna murmured, smiling. His eyes were half closed as he looked up at Xanxus. “I will.” Then he tilted his head towards Yamamoto and said, “Are you ready for your match? You have everything you need?”

“All but one thing.” Yamamoto turned to face Tsuna suddenly, putting his back to the Varia as he did so. This effectively diverted attention to him and away from Xanxus. Hayato glanced up to see that the man was watching them, a scowl on his lips. Scary.

“Oh?” Tsuna blinked. “What is it?”

Yamamoto looked oddly serious as he spoke, “Permission to wear my mask, Boss?”

Tsuna, now just as serious, nodded. “Careful though. Remember the point of these battles, Takeshi. The ring isn’t worth your life.”

“Yes, Boss,” Yamamoto bowed and then, when the straightened, was beaming again. “I’m ready then!”

“Fight to the extreme!” Ryouhei said excitedly. “You shall triumph over your prey!”

Tsuna gave him a thumbs up, grabbed Hayato by the arm and said, “Good luck, Takeshi! Have fun!”

“Y-yeah,” Hayato added, “Don’t fuck it up! Get the damn ring and win!”

Yamamoto laughed and turned back, one hand reaching for his pocket, the other still holding his sword across his shoulders. “Long hair! C’mon, let’s get started!”

Hayato glanced over his shoulder in time to see the Varia departing, leaving Squalo on the other side of the flooding room while he and the others went back out of the building to watch from outside. Tsuna didn’t look concerned, but Hayato couldn’t help the clench of worry and fear around his heart. Yamamoto didn’t look like he was taking this serious enough.

But if Tsuna had faith, then Hayato had to find some as well. After all, Yamamoto couldn’t lose or that would be it for all of them.  

* * *

Takeshi couldn’t believe his luck.

Shigure Kintoki rested easily on his shoulders and a smile rested lightly on his lips. Squalo was a _delight_ to see, standing across from him with his lovely long hair and dark outfit. He was a delight to smell, as well, like steel and strong, lively flesh. He had some of that salty, almost fishy scent to him that reminded Takeshi of his father’s kitchen where he would cut up flesh and fish alike depending on the taste of the customer.

Takeshi’s hands flexed, wanting to do more than smell and hear and see Squalo. What would he look like under those clothes? What kind of shape did he keep his body in? Takeshi doubted there was much fat on him, which would cause some despair over the flavor, but not in the sight. Besides, there were many ways to taste and Takeshi wasn’t very hungry.

Yet.

Anyway.

He took a deep breath and centered himself. Right. No reason to jump head first into battle. Takeshi wanted to enjoy himself. Fighting against Ryouhei or Hibari wasn’t the same as going against another swordsman and, well, fighting his father didn’t give much room for diversity. As Takeshi prepared himself for Squalo’s fight, whenever the loudmouthed man got around to striking anyway, he savored the thought of fighting someone who had fought countless other swordsmen.

A human who fought that well would surely be a lot of fun to battle against.

Squalo didn’t disappoint him in the least. His strikes were fast and biting. Takeshi dodged and ducked and watched Squalo dance with his blade as an extension of his own body, literally and figuratively. He laughed brightly when that sword cut open a wound along his shoulder. The pain was fierce but his blood was already knitting the flesh back together when Squalo came in for another attack.

Even Squalo knowing his movements didn’t dim Takeshi’s smile. Of course a human could learn the same steps as he had learned with his blade. If they were talented enough, a human could do many, many things. As their swords crossed, Takeshi looked up at Squalo and said, “You’re a very talented human, longhair.”

“Tch, shut the fuck up you brat!”

Takeshi laughed and moved backwards. Squalo sure had a loud voice to go with his lovely looks. And a temper to match it. Squalo’s next attack destroyed a column, sending shards of stone spraying out like splashed water. With a shouted, “Yikes!” Takeshi jerked his goggles down over his eyes just in time to save them from being damaged. “That was a close one! Almost got me right in the eye!”

“Good!”

“I like my eyes!” Takeshi chirped, “They’re lovely. Do you want to see?”

“I already did, you idiot,” Squalo snapped.

“Well, not really.” Takeshi laughed. “Here. Take a good look!” It only took a little bit of effort, almost none at all really, for Takeshi to shift his eyes from their human appearance to that of his ghoulish self. He pushed his goggles up with one hand and opened his eyes as wide as he could.

Grinning, with all of his teeth, Takeshi said, “Have I mentioned just how delicious you look, long hair?” He laughed and reached down with one hand to his pocket. “I could just eat. You. Up.”

He brought up his mask, the familiar design that of a monstrous beast’s mouth, and slipped it on with practiced ease. His laughter was muffled, deeper, behind the mask, but he was used to that by now. He wanted to get Squalo used to it too. Bringing his goggles back down, Takeshi cocked his head to the side. “What? Nothing to say to that? Not even a thank you for the compliment? I’m kind of a picky eater. My dad always said that nothing but the best cuts of meat were good enough for me and I guess that spoils a person, you know?”

“You’re a-,” Squalo’s face was as white as his hair. “This whole time… you were a ghoul this whole time.”

“Uh. Yes? That’s how it works.” Takeshi readied himself into his next stance. Squalo was caught off guard and there wouldn’t be another chance like this to strike. “It’s not like I stop being a ghoul when the mask comes off.” As the words fell from his tongue, Takeshi struck. Squalo’s eyes were enormous as he approached, faster and stronger than before.

Shigure Kintoki shifted into a blade as Takeshi struck with an offensive form. Squalo gave a shout, a cry of pain, and then there was the heady smell of blood in the air, in the water. Takeshi took a deep breath in, savoring the scent of it even through his mask. He saw Squalo shudder at the sound, or perhaps something else if Takeshi didn’t want to be _too_ egotistical, and he chuckled again.

“You smell good too,” Takeshi said as he ducked under Squalo’s next attack, weaker than the ones previous. His body was moving, but with his eyes so wide it was clear that he was still shaken. “I know I ate before I came to fight but I’d still… like a little taste… Eh? How about it?”

“Fuck off.” Squalo shouted, “Fuck off and die, ghoul!”

“Rude,” Takeshi muttered. He heaved a sigh and then, adjusting for his next form, said, “I’ll stop playing around then, if that’s what you want. Dad always says I play too much with my food anyway.”

“F-fuck,” Squalo breathed out.

Takeshi winked, though he didn’t think Squalo could see it behind the goggles, and said, “Maybe later. If you live through this.” Then, with a twist of his body and a surge of muscles, Takeshi struck with an attacking form.

Squalo crumpled under the strike. Takeshi watched with wide eyes as white hair spilled into the dark water. Blood seeped on the platform underneath the man and Takeshi could _just_ hear the rasp of his breath. He took a sliding step forward, watching, silent, staring.

When Squalo lay there, still, for another minute, Takeshi took another step. “Get up,” he whispered. “Get up.” That couldn’t be _it._

Squalo stirred. Takeshi made a guttural sound of pleasure in the back of his throat. The man pushed himself up, panting, eyes narrowed, and then got to his feet. “Is that… all you have… you fucking ghoul?”

Takeshi laughed. “Good. You’re up. Let’s continue then?”

“Yeah. We’ll continue until one of us is dead.”

“Ah, ah,” Takeshi shook his head. “The fight isn’t for our lives. It’s for rings. And for pleasure. I don’t want you dead.”

“That’s a fucking relief,” Squalo sneered, “Because here I was thinking you were interested in cutting me open and getting a mouthful of my guts, you sick fuck. What’s with all the you’re delicious and tasty looking talk then, huh? Or is that just a thing that you ghouls enjoy?”

“More than one way to gut a fish,” Takeshi said as he came in for another attack, “More than one way to taste a man.” Their swords crossed and he leaned in so that Squalo was sure to see his eyes beneath the goggles. “I don’t think I like the idea of you getting involved with any other ghouls, Squalo. I’m calling dibs.” He gave an exaggerated wink at Squalo’s offended shout.

Back out of range, Takeshi lifted his voice, “You hear me Hibari? I’m calling dibs!” He pointed his sword at Squalo and shouted, “Superbi Squalo’s body is mine.”

“What the fuck,” Squalo said, “What the actual fuck.”

“There,” Takeshi beamed. Though the effect was cut by the mask, he didn’t much care. Squalo’s dumbstruck expression was out and out charming. “Now you don’t have to worry about being bitten to death in town.”

“You don’t get to just-” Squalo began and then stopped. “You can’t just go and-” he started again and then stopped, again. “What the fuck, kid,” he ended up saying, “How old are you anyway? Fourteen?”

“Yeah. Sorry?” Takeshi rubbed the back of his head. “How old are you?”

“...twenty two,” Squalo replied. “Way too old for you.”

“Mm,” Takeshi shook his head. “Only for a little while.”

“Are you seriously… What the fuck, kid? Are you hitting on me? Is this really fucking happening? You’re a ghoul! And I’m human. That’s not how this fucking works!”

“Why not?” Takeshi asked. “Who says? Are there rules against it? Because if there were rules against it, Hibari won’t listen to my dibs.”

“You cannot call dibs on my body,” Squalo shouted. “You are not going to fucking kill me and eat me.”

“You’re right.” Takeshi said. “I’m not.”

There was a pause where Squalo’s mouth opened and shut a few times and then he put his hand over his face and said, “This is a nightmare.”

“You know, for all your pretty looks and nice smell and impressive body, you are incredibly rude,” Takeshi said, narrowing his eyes. “So what if I’m a ghoul? Does that mean I don’t get to enjoy being with someone that I think is nice to look at? I’m not a mindless beast. I make sure I eat regularly and keep myself fit and I socialize with humans and other ghouls. What makes me so different than any other person, huh?”

Squalo lowered his hand and blinked at Takeshi before glaring at him. “The food you eat? Is humans. And let me guess, you keep yourself fit by hunting humans, don’t you? So you know how to laugh and know how to smile. Does that make you fucking human? No!”

“I don’t want to be _human,”_ Takeshi shouted, cutting Squalo off with words and his sword. “I just want to be treated like a _person._ What’s so difficult about that, huh? If you can be decent to a human, can’t you be decent to me?”

“That isn’t- This isn’t- What are you-” Squalo shook his head, “Look. Kid. Ghoul. Fuck.”

“I have a fucking name,” Takeshi snarled. “Would it kill you to use it, _Superbi?”_

There was a long moment of silence, filled with the sound of running water, where Squalo stared at him. And then he said, slowly, uncertainly. “I don’t know. Will it, _Takeshi?”_

Takeshi couldn’t help the noise he made in the back of his throat. He was simply so _pleased_ by his choice in Squalo. “Actually, it might just save your life.”

“Please,” Squalo rolled his eyes, “I think I preferred the beginning of this battle when you were smiling and not saying a damn thing.”

“My favorite part,” Takeshi said, “Was when you were on your back. Let’s do that part again, but with me closer this time? How does that sound.”

“You’re _fourteen,”_ Squalo choked out. “You’re eight years younger than me! I’m twenty fucking two!”

“So what?” Takeshi shouted back, “Am I not allowed to want to have an older boyfriend? And we were doing so well on the ghouls are people too front!”

Outraged, Squalo launched himself forward in an attack. Takeshi deflected it, dodged the next one, and snuck in one of his own. He followed it through, though, not letting Squalo get too far. It was like a Hunt, almost. There was blood in the air and his pulse was racing. His back flexed under the strain of keeping his kagune under control, but with his sword and with Squalo on the run, he didn’t need it. He was only _excited._ That was the trouble.

He was excited and chasing the perfect prey.

Squalo spun to face him; hair whipping around his body, blood making his clothes stick to his form and sword up. “Fuck it. I am _not_ going to be your boyfriend.” Despite how pale he’d looked before, his cheeks were flushed pink.

Takeshi grinned under his mask. He lingered just out of range, or so he figured anyway, and cocked his head to the side. “You sure? You’re completely positive? There’s nothing I could do to change your mind? Not even a little?” He inched forward a step, “I mean, c’mon, can’t I even get a proper chance? One date?”

“That is- No.” Squalo bit out the word. Takeshi grinned broader because Squalo shook his head and he could see the tips of his ears had turned pink too. “No. No dates. Not even one.”

“Hmmm,” Takeshi rocked back on a heel. “What about… what about this date? The one we’re on now? Because this is a date now. I think it’s going rather well.”

“Are you fucking with me right now?” Squalo shouted. “Is that- Is that what this is? What the fuck! This isn’t a date! We’re trying to fucking kill each other for a pair of stupid fucking ring halves!”

“I already told you I don’t want to kill you-”

“You said my blood smelled good. That you wanted to fucking taste it-”

“Yeah but, it doesn’t take all of your blood to be outside your body for me to taste it, does it?”

“So, what, you want to bite me or some shit?”

“...yeah, pretty much.”

Squalo was panting, now, staring at him again.

Takeshi glanced down at his feet, scuffing his toe on the platform. He looked back up to Squalo and shrugged sheepishly, “I mean… you can bite me back if that’s the problem? And I’d be careful. I’m really good at being careful.”

Squalo made some sort of strangled noise. His face was entirely red now and it looked like he was having trouble breathing. That was… worrying. Takeshi was worried. Was he pushing too hard? Was he going too far?

But no, when would he have another chance at this? Never. He had to keep trying until the end of the match. If he couldn’t convince Squalo to go on a second date by then he’d give up and move on. There were, after all, plenty of fish in the sea.

“The match has continued long enough to necessitate the release of the great beast.” A distant female voice said suddenly, startling Takeshi so bad he spun to locate it. When he turned back to Squalo it was to find the man clutching his hand to his chest like the voice had spooked him just as badly.

“Great beast?” Takeshi asked.

It was then that the shark was added to the water, and great it was. Takeshi’s eyes widened at the sight of it, enormous and grey and dangerous. Then his eyes trailed through the water back to the platform Squalo stood on.

And the blood that was in the water around him.

The shark’s fin faded beneath the water but Takeshi had seen nature films. Sharks had to get a running start, figuratively speaking of course, to breach the surface with any decent height. There probably wasn’t very much space below them, now, but there had to be enough to-

There, a shadow in the water and-

Even with his sword he’d never get there in time to-

But with his kagune-

“Squalo!” Takeshi shouted, throwing himself forward as the shadow in the water became a silhouette.

“Fuck!” Squalo screamed, not because of the shark, no, but with his eyes wide and staring at Takeshi.

The four tentacles were red as blood as they burst out from Takeshi’s back, tearing his shirt and arching around him. The shark broke the water at the same time as Takeshi reached Squalo’s platform. He brought down his sword at the same time as his rinkaku pierced through the soft skin of the shark and deep into its body. He shouted in wordless triumph as they plunged into the body, found the center, and began to pull outwards, curled like barbed hooks at their ends.

With a great wet tearing sound, the shark burst into chunks. Blood and meat and teeth and cartilage filled the air. There was a flash of metal as the largest pieces headed towards Squalo were cut by his sword to prevent damage, but nothing could block the blood.

The tail half of the shark slid back into the water as Takeshi landed on the platform beside Squalo. He was drenched in the rank blood of the shark. With it all around, he could barely smell Squalo anymore, which was a damn shame of course. His goggles were covered with the muck as well, so he pushed them up to see clearly again.

Squalo stared at him, panting, eyes wide. Or rather. Squalo stared at the space just to the left of him. His rinkaku moved in the air like listless snakes, or tree branches in the wind.

Takeshi looked Squalo over. Other than blood and the wounds that Takeshi had given the man himself, he looked fine. Good. That was good.

He took a cautious step forward. Squalo’s eyes flickered from the red to his face back to the rinkaku again. The man adjusted his stance, sword up and defensive.

Takeshi’s shoulders slumped. He had royally fucked up his date. He probably _shouldn’t_ be calling it a date at all considering how badly he’d messed it up. Sighing, he said, “Squalo?”

There was a squeak in answer. Squalo’s eyes bounced back to his face and away again. Takeshi recognized the gesture. Squalo had fought ghouls before. He knew where the true danger lay and it wasn’t in Takeshi’s body. At least, it wasn’t anymore.

Disheartened, Takeshi retracted the kagune with a shudder. He flexed and drew in a deep breath when it was done. Lifting his chin, he met Squalo’s gaze with human eyes once more. “I win,” he declared, “Or do you want to continue?”

Squalo’s fingers reached up and closed around the chain around his neck. It was as bloody as the rest of him. “Fuck,” he whispered, “I didn’t even see you- They came out so fast-”

Warily, Takeshi edged closer. “The ring?” He held out his free hand.

Squalo held the chain up from his body, but didn’t take it off or hand it over. Annoyed, mostly with himself, Takeshi moved up quickly and grabbed the ring. Squalo snatched his wrist the moment he did, though, and leaned in.

Takeshi’s breath caught in his throat as his eyes met Squalo’s grey ones from only inches away. “You get the fucking ring, kid,” Squalo hissed, “and your stupid second date. But not until you’re older.”

Takeshi could have kissed him. If not for the bloody mask. And the fact that he’d probably lose that date opportunity if he did. Instead, he said, “My birthday’s in April. I’ll be fifteen. That old enough?”

“Brat,” was all Squalo said before shoving his hand away. Takeshi scampered back, the ring half in hand, and laughed.

“Do you like sushi?” Takeshi asked, elated on victory of both the battle for the heart and for the ring. “My dad makes the best sushi. You could come by and visit before you go home to Italy!”

“I think I am done with fish for a while,” Squalo muttered. “Now fuck off. Go! Miserable gloating bastard.”

Takeshi laughed again. The ring’s two halves snapped together seamlessly. Escaping from the room itself was a whole thing but it hardly mattered at all once he was outside again.

Takeshi peeled his mask off as he hit fresh air. The first thing that happened after that was a sweeping embrace from Ryouhei.

“YOU WON IN THE MOST EXTREME FASHION!” Ryouhei roared right into his ear. Takeshi could feel the prickle of his ear healing itself from the damage incurred. “To best your prey in such an extreme way is the most exhilarating thing! I am excited just witnessing your victory!” He dropped Takeshi out of the hug, clapping him with both hands on his shoulders, “Although you smell like you rolled in shit, you looked absolutely extreme in slaughtering that beast!”

“Yeah, I totally need a shower,” Takeshi laughed. “Shark blood is gross.” Ryouhei stepped aside so the others could greet him.

“Takeshi,” Tsuna looked exasperated. “That was a bit… well…”

“Extreme?” Takeshi snickered, elbowing Ryouhei, who gave him a thumbs up.

“Yes.” Tsuna laughed, “And chasing that man around too… I suppose you did get him to come around to your side?”

“Yup!” Takeshi grinned, “Guess who has a second date?” He jerked his thumb to his own chest, “This ghoul.”

“And… about that….” Tsuna added. He gestured to the side. Gokudera sat on the ground, his head between his knees, taking in deep breaths. “I had thought Gokudera had figured it out… I mean, Reborn did so I just assumed that…”

“Ohhh,” Takeshi said, “Yikes. Is he gonna be okay?”

“Holy shit!”

Takeshi jumped, but it was only Dino. Dino who came up and, after a moment of hesitation, clapped him on the shoulder. “Well done! That was. Haha, that was something else! I had no idea you could give him a run for his money like that. Wow!”

Takeshi laughed. “I couldn’t help it. He was just so cute when he was stunned like that! And he looked really good too. Haha.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s a shame about all the shark blood. I was really hoping to get a taste of his before it was all over.”

“Hahah, oh my god,” Dino said, “You’re really a fucking ghoul. That’s. Woah. Completely unexpected.”

Ryouhei grinned, “Takeshi is an extremely awesome ghoul!”

Dino glanced to Ryouhei and then Tsuna, asking, “And that’s just… cool here? Like, you already knew about it?”

Ryouhei blinked, “But of course we knew! Takeshi is our companion and part of the new family!”

Tsuna smiled. “Takeshi is my friend. Whether or not he is a ghoul doesn’t really matter to me, in the end.”

“But ghouls do make better friends,” Takeshi said.

“Sure,” Dino agreed. “Sure thing.”

Takeshi grinned.

* * *

“So…”

Squalo looked up at Xanxus, who sat with his chin in his palm and one brow arched, staring at him. He glanced to the others, but then narrowed his eyes at his boss. “So what?”

“I’m just trying to figure out which part is worse,” Xanxus said with a slow, malicious smirk spreading across his face, “The fact that you now have a fourteen year old boyfriend or the fact that said boyfriend is a fucking human eating _ghoul.”_

Squalo grit his teeth. Every fiber of his being wanted to spit out the words, _he is not my boyfriend._ He didn’t dare do it though. His dignity had suffered enough in that one battle alone. So he suffered in silence until Bel’s snickering caught his attention.

Bel grinned, “Do you know how you look when you blush, Squalo? It’s _adorable.”_

Squalo hissed at him. He wasn’t so badly injured that he couldn’t kill that little bastard-

“Shut up.” Xanxus growled out, “Both of you. Ugh. Go get fucking cleaned up you trash. You reek of fish guts and ghoul.”

Seething, Squalo nodded and turned to go. He’d get stronger and then face that brat again. And this time, he would _win._ That was the only way he’d ever recover from this… humiliation.

* * *

It was a little after midnight, when Xanxus made his way into the room Squalo was staying in. He found the swordsman angrily brushing his hair out. When he walked in, he got a brief sharp glare and then a dismissing huff of breath.

Xanxus sat down next to him on the bed, swirling his drink in his hand. They sat silently for minutes as Squalo worried the knots from his hair and managed to get it smooth again.

Finally, he spoke. “Teen ghoul boyfriend, huh.”

Squalo snarled in pure outrage and threw his brush at Xanxus. He ducked, but had to put up an arm to stop Squalo’s hands from grabbing his throat. As his best friend attempted to strangle the life out of him, Xanxus laughed and laughed and laughed.

He had missed this kind of comfortable interaction with Squalo. Things had been...hard since the slaughter of the twenty had happened. There hadn't been much to laugh about.

“Hey,” he said after Squalo had calmed down enough to go looking for his tossed brush. “Do you suppose you’re going to have to meet his ghoul family? Has he got one of those?”

Squalo stopped, mid reach, and said, “A dad. He said I had to meet his dad. He makes sushi and… was the one who taught him that style of fighting...”

Xanxus snorted. “So… what kind of flowers do you want at your funeral?”

* * *

“DAD!” Takeshi shouted in excitement. “I got a boyfriend! He’s a swordsman and he’s got long hair and he’s so lovely. You will love him!”

Tsuyoshi laughed as his son bounced up and down in the kitchen, excited and still a little damp from his shower. “Really now? What’s this boyfriend’s name? And when is he coming around to meet your dear old dad?”

“His name is Superbi Squalo and he’s twenty two and he’s kinda tall and I’m gonna bring him home as soon as I can I promise! It’s just that I ripped open a shark all over him earlier and so he had to go clean up. But! We’re going to have our second date soon and I’ll bring him home. I promise!” Takeshi grinned, all but bouncing in place. “He’s a human so you have to make the best sushi for him, okay? Please?”

“A human eh? I’m not sure if that’s-” Tsuyoshi stopped slicing and slowly lowered his knife. As he turned to look at Takeshi, his son stopped bouncing and blinked in surprise. “Twenty two you say? That’s a bit old to be fooling around with a kid like you, isn’t it?”

“Does it really matter?” Takeshi shrugged a shoulder. “It’s not like I won’t do that kind of stuff with someone eventually, right? And besides, he can’t hurt me, Dad. He’s _a human.”_

“Not all injuries are done to the flesh, Takeshi,” Tsuyoshi said firmly. “I want you to bring this young man around _before_ you go on your date. Your father will determine if he is of a worthy cut for you.”

“Daaad,” Takeshi groaned, leaning against the counter. “Don’t scare away another pretty boy, _please._ I really like this one!”

“And if he’s any good for you then he won’t be scared away,” Tsuyoshi said, turning back to his work. “Don’t worry, son. Your father has a nose for the choicest meats. That’s how he picked out your mother, after all.”

Takeshi groaned again, sliding from the counter to the floor and into a heap. “Fiiine. Fine. I guess it can’t be helped.”

“No. It can’t.” Tsuyoshi chuckled and his son groaned again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, after much referencing the wiki and discussion with a friend, we came to the agreement that Squalo's first name is indeed Superbi. So. Yeah. Enjoy that too. I'm still giggling over it myself.
> 
>  
> 
> [ Inspiration for Takeshi's mask](http://orig15.deviantart.net/32e9/f/2011/283/e/4/silver_half_mask_by_missmonster-d4cgaeq.jpg)  
> [ Takeshi's Goggles ](http://img00.deviantart.net/19fe/i/2011/154/e/c/steampunk_aviator_goggles_by_denbow-d3hy1cq.jpg)


	2. Mist Ring Battle and Manuals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was scheduled to come out next week, but it got more attention than I expected? I figured since I have a few chapters written ahead, I'll go ahead and post this early. 
> 
> All your reviews are the reason why this is out a week early.

Xanxus had brought in his damn high-backed chair into the gymnasium and sat himself on it as though he hadn’t a care in the world. Standing beside him, Squalo did his level best to not roll his damn eyes at his boss. He succeeded mostly because the door was opening on the other side of the room and his nerves were already on edge. Xanxus had told him the reactions of the little challenger’s guardians to Yamamoto revealing he was a ghoul. It had appeared as though the leader brat knew and, of course, Reborn had as well, but the others had been as pale as Squalo himself. Except for their sun guardian, but that insane kid hadn’t even blinked at Lussuria’s banter so, well. Who the fuck knew with him.

Even Dino had been surprised by the reveal, which did a little bit to soothe Squalo’s injured pride, but not much. He’d been the one to lose to the monster, after all.

The teenagers walked in together, chatting, and too fucking at ease for the evening. It had bothered Squalo, before, to see them so relaxed, but now it was like nails on a chalkboard. Yamamoto was easily the most carefree of the bunch, one hand behind his head as he laughed at something the sun guardian was shouting.

“...extremely good!” The teen was patting a bag that hung from his shoulder. “I should have brought it the other night, but I forgot in my eagerness to make sure Octopus head over there made it to see your match!”

“I can’t wait!” Yamamoto said with a laugh. Then his head turned and, shit. He lifted his free hand to wave, “Squalo! Hey! Are you busy after this?”

Squalo stiffened. He glanced down at Xanxus who was clenching his jaw to keep his serious expression. Dammit. Xanxus was _laughing at him._ “Of course I am,” Squalo shouted back.

He knew that he shouldn’t have responded at all when Xanxus glanced up at him and said, pitching his voice to carry, _damn him,_ “Really? Doing what? Another two hour shower to get blood out of your hair? Oh, wait, that was _last_ night.”

Squalo was going to murder Xanxus.

That is, if Yamamoto didn’t do it first.

The kid was glaring daggers at Xanxus and muttered something that, because of the distance, he couldn’t quite catch. He did, however, hear the sun guardian’s shouted response of, “That is extremely trashy behavior! He should not have accepted your offer of a date if that is the case!”

“Oh my god,” Squalo whispered.

“Bel is going to be so fucking pissed he missed this,” Xanxus said, barely moving his lips.

“VOI!” Squalo lifted his fist, “Exactly WHAT are you saying about me over there, you shitty brat!?”

Yamamoto’s eyes flashed black and red as he called back, “What’s that bastard doing knowing about your showering habits, huh? You’re not _seeing_ him are you? Is that why you didn’t want to go on a date with me?”

Squalo couldn’t help the shudder of fear that crawled down his spine at those eyes. It was a learned response, if not an instinctive one. He flexed his left arm, nearly drawing his sword, as he took a step back. “Fucking hell,” he breathed. “Fuck.”

“...Did you actually forget he was a ghoul?” Xanxus asked, arching an eyebrow. He had his chin on his palm, looking as derisively casual as ever, but Squalo knew his boss better than that. His other hand was down by his side, near his gun. Even if it was an unconscious gesture, Squalo felt a little better knowing that a ghoul’s eyes didn’t just affect him.

“Well?” Yamamoto shouted. At first Squalo thought the kid wanted to know the answer to Xanxus’s question, but then he remembered. Oh. Right.

“Xanxus is my boss,” Squalo sneered. “I’m not fucking my boss.”

“Anymore,” Xanxus added under his breath.

“I’m going to throw out all of your whiskey,” Squalo hissed back at him.

Xanxus narrowed his gaze.

“You sure?” Yamamoto asked, “Cause the last guy I brought home to my dad was cheating on me and, well, I bet you can guess what happened to him.” He grinned, showing far too many teeth. Another shiver ran down Squalo’s spine, but he wasn’t quite sure if it was fear alone that caused it.

“Takeshi,” Sawada cut in. He was turning away from one of his other guardians, the Italian one that had fallen to Bel’s insanity. “That’s enough. Reborn says the mist guardian is here.” He dropped his voice below hearing level and added something else. Yamamoto sheepishly scratched at the back of his neck and nodded to his boss.

“Sorry, sorry. I just…” Yamamoto heaved a heavy sigh. His eyes met Squalo’s as he said on the end of that sigh, “He smells so good.”

“Might want to change the shampoo you use,” Xanxus said, his eyes glinting with sadistic humor. “Maybe that will help.”

“Fuck you,” Squalo snapped, “And fuck him. And fuck this stupid ring battle anyway.”

The doors on the far side opened again. Squalo stifled a sigh in relief as the newcomers took the attention off of the weird-as-hell conversation. It was some teen boys that wandered in and trailing in their wake was a girl in a short skirt, an eyepatch and holding a long ass trident.

Mammon scoffed from his perch on Mosca’s hand. He had certain _opinions_ about illusionists with weapons and there was no way, considering the literal mist that clung to the girl’s shoes as she walked in, that she wasn’t Sawada’s guardian.

Sawada seemed surprised to see her and asked her about someone named Mukuro but she didn’t give him a straight answer either way. There wasn’t so much clear distrust as confusion on their side and Squalo did roll his eyes. Who thought it was a good idea to introduce the guardians to their boss on the night they’d fight for the fucking rings?

Chrome was the girl’s name and she looked half starved and terrified as she stood across from Mammon on the wood floor. Squalo folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the side of Xanxus’s chair, settling in to watch.

He didn’t get many opportunities to stand to the side and watch Mammon work, in particular, or illusionists in general. Squalo wasn’t made for illusion and, though he could break some of the basic ones, tended to avoid them. There was plenty of bad shit in his brain that he could imagine was real without the possibility of those things actually becoming real enough to fuck with him.

Squalo’s eyes kept glancing to Yamamoto. A ghoul kid. A ghoul who stood amongst humans, laughing and joking and reacting just like they did. A ghoul with a romantic and, well, probably unhealthy and potentially fatal interest in Squalo himself. A ghoul that he would not have realized was one at all if not for those flashing eyes and that jarringly red kagune.

Yamamoto met his gaze and winked. Squalo jerked his attention back to the battle in time to see the girl be flung down to the ground and skid back across it. She clutched the trident tightly in both hands, gasping for breath, her one visible eye wide and wild.

Mammon sneered at her and, with a flex of his power, he turned the trident into shards of metal.

The girl shuddered, curling around empty hands and letting out a wail like a wounded animal. As mist gathered around her strangely convulsing body, Mammon spoke, “It’s common for female illusionists to do this,” he said with a flick of one baby hand, “They don’t like their bodies to be seen when they die.”

The mist kept gathering, though, and thickening. Squalo glanced to Sawada, but there was no defeat on the boy’s face. Only earnest attention that was entirely focused on the smoke. It was quiet enough that when Sawada spoke, Squalo heard his words.

“He’s coming. Mukuro’s here.”

Laughter, not Mammons nor anyone else’s, drifted through the air.

The mist parted, revealing a young man in the place where the girl had been. Mukuro, if that was his name, grinned to the Arcobaleno in the air in front of him. His eyes were unnatural, but not with that fear-inducing black and red of a ghoul. Squalo couldn’t tell what it is from where he stood, but they didn’t look like they matched.

The battle continued in earnest then. Mammon’s will clashed spectacularly against that of Mukuro’s. The floor spun and tore, the world broke apart and spiraled around them. Squalo kept his feet firmly planted and held still, focusing on the way his knuckles of his robotic hand dug into his ribs as he kept his arms folded across his chest. If he could stay grounded in reality, he’d be able to see the fight but not experience it.

From the way Sawada and his guardians were reacting, it was clear that they were being wrapped up into it. “Tch,” he muttered under his breath, “Don’t they have any idea how to survive an illusionist’s match?”

“They have a damn ghoul on their team,” Xanxus muttered back, “Do you think they have any idea how to survive in real life at all?”

“Stupid brats,” Squalo said. Really, Xanxus winning the rings and being the Decimo would be doing them a fucking favor. But could they understand that? Of course not. The mafia world would chew them up and spit them out again, unrecognizable to how they were before it.

Even Yamamoto wouldn’t make it. Not with how the Vongola treated ghouls.

In the Varia, though…

Shit. No. Squalo shook his head. He was _not_ going to think about that. The Vongola had cut all the ghouls out of Varia when Enrico had been murdered by one. They had refused to employ the Varia at all if they had any ghouls since then.

So no ghouls in the Varia. Not even talented shark-slaying sword teens who-

“Fuck,” Squalo breathed.

“That’s… putting it mildly,” Xanxus said, getting his attention. Squalo blinked and looked back to see.

“What the fuck?” He gaped.

Spreading out from Mukuro’s shoulders were four blood-red wings. They stretched out far past the teen’s reach, unfurling in the air with a flourishing shimmer across the surface. They looked more like dragonfly wings than the typical feathery appearance of an ukaku, but Squalo had seen plenty of kagune to know one when he saw it.

Even knowing it was an illusion -it _had_ to be one, because Mukuro’s eyes were still human- Squalo felt his heart begin to beat harder in anticipation for a fight. He forced his muscles to relax. He took deep breaths to calm himself down.

Mammon laughed mockingly. “That’s as much as you can come up with for a ghoul’s kagune? Let me show you what I have seen.” Blood red organs burst from the floating infant’s back, gleaming like they were slick, glinting like they were made of metal, not flesh. If they had been real, that was. It was an illusion, just like the wings that Mukuro sported.

Mammon’s wings, of course, were enormous, and they weren’t the only kagune he brought into being. The scaled tentacles of a rinkaku sprouted from lower back, turning into claws and blades and spikes as they lashed through the air like something alive.

Squalo forced himself to relax more. It was all an illusion. He’d seen a rinkaku only the night before, after all. He knew they didn’t move like that.

But shit, it was a good one. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, Yamamoto taking in deep breaths. Was it jarring for a ghoul to see even an illusion of kagune that impressive?

The boy’s expression was just as intent as Sawada’s, though, neither smiling nor white with fear. Narrowing his eyes, Squalo almost thought he saw Yamamoto’s nostrils flare, as if he were scenting the air.

Mammon’s scream made Squalo jerk back to attention. He stared as the infant’s summoned kagune turned on him and began to tear him to shreds. Mukuro was grinning, his eyes still human, his wings trembling, almost vibrating in place in mimicry of the speeds of a dragonfly’s wing. As Squalo watched, Mammon was torn apart.

There was blood and flesh, as realistic as anything Squalo had ever seen, splattering the wooden floor that still bent under the influence of Mukuro’s will. The baby’s scream reached a fever pitch and then cut off abruptly.

The following silence felt like a weight on Squalo’s shoulders. Mukuro bent, picked something up, and smirked. “Two halves make a whole,” he said with wry humor, snapping Mammon’s ring half into place with his own. He laughed as the world began to settle again, the wooden slats moving back into place, the ground evening out, the blood and gore vanishing.

One by one, the illusions faded, until all that was left were the red wings sprouted from Mukuro’s back. He looked at Squalo for a moment before giving his attention to Xanxus and saying, “Such a pity he managed to escape. I bet he would have tasted excellent.”

Before Squalo’s eyes, the image of Mukuro faded into the one of the girl. He took a step back, his shoulder bumping into the arm of Gola Mosca, when he saw that the girl’s right eye was red and black, but her left eye was humanoid. She clutched her trident with white knuckles, her ukaku fluttering like real wings behind her shoulders, and said softly, “Infants are very tender.” Her eyes dropped down towards the ground where Mammon’s false remains had splattered. “And I’m… hungry.”

“What the-” Squalo began.

“Fucking fuck.” Xanxus ended for him. He sat up straight in his chair, not even pretending to be nonchalant anymore.

“She’s got one eye,” Squalo couldn’t bring his voice above a whisper. “One ghoul eye and… one human eye. How is that even… what the fuck…”

“Chrome?” Sawada’s voice made Squalo jump with its suddenness. “Chrome, come over here.”

Xanxus’s hands clenched around the arms of his chair. Squalo tensed beside him. Even if the shitty little punk was fighting to be the next Decimo- Even if he was going to try and take Xanxus’s title from him-

No one deserved to die to a hungry ghoul.

Chrome jerked her head around to look at Sawada. Her eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open as she began to pant. Squalo twitched, suppressing the instinct to attack. She’d just won the regulated battle, after all, and if he attacked her, who knew what the Cervello would determine of his match and hers.

But Sawada was smiling at her, holding out his hand. “It’s okay. Come on.”

She took slow steps towards them. Squalo leaned forward, watching her intently. Ukaku were quick, faster than rinkaku even, and the slightest muscle twitch would be the only warning they had if she were to attack.

As she approached, though, it wasn’t Yamamoto who approached her- as Squalo might have thought considering he was ghoulish like her- or even Sawada with his hand out to her. It was, instead, the sun guardian. He grinned down at the girl, rummaging in the bag he held and shouting, “Here! This is to help with your extreme thirst!” He held out a plastic sports bottle.

“...But I’m hungry,” Chrome disputed. But she reached out and took the bottle anyway. She sniffed it, took one small drink and then with a gleam of manic delight, tore off the lid entirely and drank from the top. Blood welled at the corners of her mouth and dripped down her chin.

“Have you gone hunting yet?” the tall teen said, “It is the most extreme experience!”

“Oh my god,” Squalo whispered, watching in horror.

The girl shook her head, mumbled something and got a sympathetic look from both the sun guardian _and_ Yamamoto. Sawada was looking on with mild exasperation, one hand on the arm of the storm guardian. At least _that_ kid looked like he was going to be sick.

“We can go hunting together if you like!” the sun guardian said to Chrome. “It’s my turn to go for the family this week!” His eyes, as he looked down at the girl, were red and black. Squalo leaned back. Lussuria was going to lose his goddamn _mind._

“There is something so wrong…” Xanxus began and then made himself stop. Squalo glanced down at him and saw that his boss was pale and watching on in shock.

“At least the Sawada kid is normal,” Squalo said, “I mean. You’ve met his dad, right? That guy is human.”

Xanxus’s lips were pressed into a thin line. “He is.” But his eyes were fixed not on Sawada. They were still on the girl. The girl with one ghoul eye. Squalo knew what question Xanxus wasn’t asking.

_What makes a ghoul have one human eye?_

“Squalo!” Yamamoto shouted. Squalo’s stomach clenched as he realized the teen wasn’t just shouting but was walking over to him. He gave a quick glance to Xanxus, but didn’t even get a mocking smirk back. Xanxus wasn’t in the mood to tease him about the infatuated ghoul teen anymore.

Taking a few steps forward, to get some distance between his brooding boss and a potential explosion of violence that was inherent to a ghoul, Squalo said, “The fuck do you want?”

Yamamoto bounced on his toes in front of Squalo. He was far too damn cheerful and at ease. “Have you had dinner yet? Do you like sushi? I know I asked already but you didn’t say. Will you come with me to dinner?”

“What makes you think I want to have dinner with you,” Squalo asked sharply. “After what I saw tonight?”

Yamamoto’s smile faltered, “What do you mean? Mukuro said that Mammon escaped. No one died or anything…. Not even any giant shark beast.”

“No. No one died. But someone _did_ talk about _eating infants_ and then _drank blood_ in front of me, so excuse me if I’m a little put off my dinner.”

“Chrome’s new to the lifestyle,” Yamamoto said, “She’s still figuring some things out. She doesn’t eat babies.”

Squalo stared at him.

Yamamoto fidgeted, “Well maybe she does, but she doesn’t go out and _kill_ babies to eat. That’s… You can’t go do that. It's against the rules. It's immoral.”

Squalo scoffed, “As if ghouls have any fucking morals.”

The sheepish Yamamoto vanished in an instant. He took a step towards Squalo, eyes narrowing. “We are just as capable of morality as any human is. We’re the same in a lot of ways-”

“Do. _Not.”_ Squalo growled, “Compare-”

“Humans to ghouls? _You to me?”_ Yamamoto cut him off. “You’re a swordsman. I’m a swordsman. You have a heart and lungs and blood like I do. I have a brain and eyes and bones like you do. The only _differences_ between us is that I have something _more.”_

Squalo shook his head. He struggled for the words and stumbled over them when they finally came, “That’s not- It’s not just about-” He dragged his hand across his face. “You don’t understand-”

“So what is it?” Yamamoto demanded. “What is it, huh? What don’t I understand?”

Gritting his teeth, Squalo said, “In Italy, ghouls _are_ monsters.” Even though his instincts told him not to look away from Yamamoto, he couldn’t look the boy in the face as he spoke and instead stared off to the side at the floor. “In Italy, ghouls wear masks made from the skin of their victims. In Italy, ghouls _do_ hunt children and eat them. They are humanoids with the minds of beasts and the morals of the devil.

“When you compare me to a ghoul,” Squalo said, “I do not think of _you._ I think of the creatures that have torn apart my subordinates, classmates, or family. I think of the monsters that crawl through the sewers and drag down men and women, children and infants, down to their deaths, screaming and pleading. The idea of two ghouls like that in the same group, working together…” His gaze flicked up towards Sawada and his guardians. They were watching, of course. The sun guardian had his hand on the one eyed ghoul girl’s shoulder.

Quietly, he ended, “If those ghouls are capable of working together… if they banded together like you have? Italy would burn.”

The silence stretched on long enough that Squalo glanced up. Yamamoto’s eyes were wide. He had one hand pressed against his sternum as a fist held so tightly his knuckles were white. His mouth was open slightly, but he didn’t speak. Squalo could see the horror sinking in and grimaced. Ghoul or not, Yamamoto was fourteen. Italy’s problems were for an adult to handle, not a kid.

“What are you going to do about them?” Sawada asked, stepping forwards, his eyes on Xanxus.

“What was that, trash?” Xanxus drawled.

“The Italian ghouls,” Sawada said. He was frowning, slightly, and stood ahead of his little group of guardians. Yamamoto half turned away from Squalo to look at his boss. “If you become the leader of the Vongola, what will you do about them?”

“The Vongola have a policy,” Xanxus said, “Instigated by Vongola Settimo upon the death of Vongola Sesto, that all ghouls upon identification are to be slaughtered. As the Decimo, I would be expected to carry on with that policy.”

“All ghouls…?” Yamamoto whispered. His eyes flicked towards Squalo, but he looked away before he could identify the emotion in the teen’s eyes.

“And would you?” Sawada pressed.

“What would _you_ do, trash?” Xanxus retorted.

Sawada didn’t even blink. “Take Hibari to Italy.”

Yamamoto burst into laughter.

Squalo jerked back, surprised by the sudden laughter. Yamamoto was grinning now, eyes bright and almost eager. “Could we, Tsuna? Could we take Hibari to Italy?”

Xanxus laughed too, but it was rough and cruel. “That scum might be strong enough to take down Levi’s men, but against the monsters in the streets of Italy he’d be just one more human corpse.”

“Out of all my guardians, Hibari is the one that you _don’t_ think is a ghoul?” Sawada’s lips twitched in amusement. “He’ll be so annoyed to hear that.”

Squalo sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth. He glanced to Yamamoto, “What, him _too?”_

“Him too,” Yamamoto grinned.

“How does this town even fucking function?” Squalo shouted. “Three of the eight of you are fucking ghouls and you’re, fuck, you’re helping each other and _working_ together… How are you able to do this? How does this even happen?”

Yamamoto smiled up at him. He grabbed Squalo’s arm, tugging on it, “Come to my house for dinner. My dad can explain if you really want to know. He’s been here for years. He knows all about Namimori.”

“I-” Squalo started to argue but, well, fuck it. He really did want to know how the fuck it was possible. He shot a look to Xanxus, but his boss only arched an eyebrow and said nothing. “Fuck it. _Fuck it._ Fine. I’ll go to your shitty house and eat your fucking sushi.” He paused and then added with a glare, “Human food. Made with fish, not human flesh.”

“Well obviously,” Yamamoto said gleefully. “Come on, let’s go!”  He pulled harder and Squalo stumbled forward. He hissed in annoyance but Yamamoto didn’t even bat an eye at it. As they passed Sawada, the teen gave them an exasperated look and a smile.

“You’ll be at Hibari’s match tomorrow, right Takeshi?” Sawada called after him.

“As if I’d ever miss watching Hibari fight,” Takeshi laughed, “Bye Tsuna!”

“Remember he’s fucking fourteen!” Xanxus’s voice followed Squalo out the door. He felt his cheeks burn, but Yamamoto was eagerly chatting back to him about, of all damn things, _baseball._

When he got back to their hotel the first thing he was going to do was strangle Xanxus.

* * *

Reborn was not looking forward to the discussion that he knew was awaiting him when he finished accompanying Tsuna back to his house. Gokudera was with them, which was perhaps the only reason why the inevitable hadn’t started yet. He glanced at Gokudera over Tsuna’s head, as he was perched on the boy’s shoulder.

Ever since the rain battle, Gokudera had been skittish about being out after dark. He hadn’t reacted too badly to Yamamoto, yet, but he had been avoiding him by pushing himself with his training. He seemed to have abruptly realized that ghouls lived in Namimori and was making up for not realizing that by driving himself to his limits. He still hadn’t properly healed yet but still went out to work with his bombs for hours.

“So,” Gokudera said into the silence, “Hibari’s a ghoul.” He’d gotten his color back once they’d left Namimori High. Ryouhei and Chrome had left together, him grinning and her shyly smiling. Ken and Chikusa had left on their own as well, taking off to wherever they were staying. Reborn knew they’d get home safely, of course. Despite Gokudera’s worry about ghouls, Hunting never happened within Namimori proper. “Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.”

Tsuna laughed softly, “Yeah. I don’t think he sees much point in pretending to be human all the time… Or very well.”

“I’ve seen him eat, though. At least once. And he didn’t throw up or anything.”

“It was that special sashimi, right?” Tsuna said. “Like Takeshi?”

“....fuck.” Gokudera whispered. “How did I not even…”

“The ghouls in Namimori are different than ghouls in the rest of the world.” Reborn said, “Even I had trouble spotting them in the beginning. When I first arrived I thought that there were almost no ghouls here at all.”

“Haha, really?,” Gokudera laughed weakly. “But I bet you figured it out pretty quickly. I mean, in retrospect, Hibari’s pretty obviously a… a ghoul.” He laughed again. He rubbed his hands up and down his arms as if he were cold. “Goddamn,” he giggled, “Him and Yamamoto and that boxing idiot… and the girl too. Chrome? Fuck. They’re all… And I didn’t even…”

He started hyperventilating then, hugging himself tightly with his arms. Tsuna reached out to Gokudera in concern. “Hey, deep breaths, now. You’re okay. They’re not going to hurt you.”

“They’re _ghouls,”_ Gokudera shuddered. His eyes were wide, so wide. “Don’t you have any idea what they can do? What I’ve… I’ve seen them do? Tenth, in Italy, back home…” He shook his head vigorously, making his hair whip against his face. “The bodies…”

Tsuna put an arm around Gokudera’s shoulder, “Let’s get you home first, okay? I bet Mom’s got some food waiting for us and if we ask nicely maybe she’ll make some hot cocoa for you.”

Gokudera’s laughter was more than a little unhinged. “Tenth, you don’t understand- You don’t-” He stopped as Tsuna put his other hand over his mouth.

“Hayato,” Tsuna said, gentle but firm. “You are safe here. I promise you. No one will hurt you here. Do you believe me?”

Gokudera nodded his head slowly. When Tsuna lowered his hand, he whispered, “Sorry. I’m sorry. I just- I _forgot about them.”_ His eyes darted to either side of them as if he were searching for ghouls in the shadows. _“How did I forget about them?”_

Reborn held back a sigh. He shifted on Tsuna’s shoulder, drawing the boy’s attention.

“I’ll go ahead to Mama,” he said, “and let her get started on the coffee.”

“Cocoa for Hayato,” Tsuna said with a little frown. “Coffee for the three of us.” _I have some questions for you,_ his eyes said.

Reborn tipped his hat slightly. _I know you do._ “Cocoa and three coffees, a regular cafe order.” He got to his feet and jumped away.

As he left, he heard Gokudera asking, “Coffee this late? Tenth you’ll never get to sleep tonight!”

Tsuna replied, “Hayato, there’s something important that I need to tell you.”

Reborn was gone before he could hear what Tsuna said next. That didn’t matter though, he already knew what it was going to be. This conversation would be a test of Gokudera’s flexibility and strength, to see if he could survive the truth of Tsuna’s secret. If he buckled, well, at least they had time to find another storm guardian.

But if he accepted it, Tsuna’s right hand man would be all the stronger for it.

* * *

“Wait a minute,” Squalo said, gesturing with his chopsticks.

It was late. The sushi shop had been closed for an hour or more and that left Squalo alone with the Yamamoto father and son pair. He had a plate of sushi still in front of him. He’d been eating through it slowly. On the one hand, each bite was pretty damn delicious. On the other, he had about a million or more questions.

“You’re telling me that you have hunting rules and regulations that are moderated by a _fifteen year old ghoul?”_

Tsuyoshi laughed, just as brightly as his son did. Takeshi was nursing a cup of coffee in both hands, looking at Squalo with eyes that sparkled. Shit. He had to stop looking at the kid like that. That was some deep infatuation going on there and Squalo was in no way going to jump in bed with an impulsive little ghoul boy.

Especially one whose father had, apparently, been a good enough assassin that he’d been scouted by the Varia multiple times. He had always turned the organization down, he explained, because it wasn’t a safe place for a ghoul.

 _A safe place for a ghoul._ What a concept.

 _Namimori_ was, according to Tsuyoshi, just such a place.

“They weren’t formulated by Hibari-san,” the older ghoul said, still chuckling. “Though he has made some addendums from time to time. The streets are a lot less crowded and children rarely skip class anymore.”

“Addendums,” Squalo said. He wanted a drink. He wanted several drinks. But he had a bad feeling about getting drunk around ghouls.

He glanced to Takeshi, who beamed over his coffee cup.

He felt even worse about getting drunk near that boy. God, he was cute though. A few more years and-

“What, do you have handbooks or something?” He tore his gaze off of Takeshi and looked back to the father. He had to keep his mind on track. Had to pay attention to the conversation. It was late and he was tired and he couldn’t afford the distraction that was Takeshi’s pretty, pretty eyes.

“As a matter of fact,” Tsuyoshi said, “We do. New editions come out once every other year or so. There haven’t been a lot of changes since Hibari-san took over, at least, not since the first overhaul.” He shook his head, “That boy cut the manual in half within six months of being in charge. Whether it was his doing or that right hand of his, one must admit that he’s quite efficient.”

“And this is the same Hibari-san that Sawada spoke to after the storm ring battle?” Squalo asked Takeshi.

Takeshi put down his mug, nodding. “Yeah. He’s the one who brought in that guy and got mad about the trespassing. Why did you even have a perimeter set? The fighting ground was Nami middle. No one goes near the school after dark, not even to hunt.”

“We thought the fighting would draw attention.” Squalo shrugged. “And in a way, it did. Hibari showed up.”

“He’s _why_ people don’t go near Nami middle at night.” Takeshi said. “He practically haunts the place.”

“...I thought one of the rules was _not_ to loiter around closed areas after dark. How do you keep all this bullshit straight?”

Tsuyoshi pushed off the bar as he stood, “Let me get one of the manuals for you to look at. It’s an older copy that we can spare. I like to keep them around to compare the two, just in case something needs to be discussed at a town hall meeting.” He gave them a little nod, “I’ll be right back.” He said that with a little smirk and a knowing glint to his eye.

Squalo tensed up as soon as he turned his back and headed away from them. The man vanished away behind the bar, into the kitchen and beyond and Takeshi instantly leaned closer to Squalo. He was smiling broadly, way too broadly. “Guess what,” he said, all but bouncing on his stool.

“...what?”

Takeshi reached up, his hand hesitating in the air above Squalo’s shoulder. Or to be more precise, above a lock of his hair that was on his shoulder. Squalo narrowed his eyes but didn’t move. Takeshi clearly took this as agreement and curled his fingers around the silver strands. His eyes flicked up from his hand to Squalo’s face and he said, “You totally passed the dad test. He’s never gotten the manual for any of my other boyfriends.”

“...haven’t the rest of your boyfriends been from Namimori?” Was Squalo’s first question. “And just how many boyfriends have you had?” Was his second.

He had a definite feeling that he should be a lot more pissed off than he was. The kid as practically stroking his hair. And he was definitely inside his personal space. And Squalo was _letting him._

“A few,” Takeshi admitted, “But none of them were ever like you, and, well, I’m kinda hoping I won’t have to have another boyfriend besides you.”

What the fuck was it with this kid and those doe eyes. Squalo could remember those same eyes staring at him from across the water filled arena, calculating and cool, a killer’s gaze. But here they were big as Sawada’s and just as shining. “Tch,” He clicked his tongue against his teeth, “You sure move quick, kid.”

“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when you’re after someone’s heart?” Takeshi asks, his voice too soft. Goosebumps rise on Squalo’s arms. The hair on the back of his neck stands on end. Suddenly his hand isn’t trailing through Squalo’s hair but is pressed against the side of his chest, between two ribs, right at the angle that’s perfect for a dagger to slide in and stab him in the heart. “Line up the pitch and swing the second you’re in range. That’s the only way you’ll score a home-run.”

It took far too long for Squalo to realize what Takeshi’s actually said. His brain is spinning in multiple directions because Takeshi was a _ghoul-_ Takeshi was _fourteen-_ Takeshi was using _baseball metaphors-_ Takeshi had fought him in a match and _won-_

Takeshi was far too close, his hand warm on Squalo’s chest, his eyes bright, his smile broad, his expression earnest and hopeful and infatuated, and buried beneath all of that, sharp and dangerous- not just because he was a ghoul but because he was attractive and someday he would be _devastating_ to look at, both on and off the battlefield.

There’s a slap of paper on wood as the manual drops out of nowhere and lands on the bar. Squalo jumps to his feet, heart pounding, cheeks flushed, and out of his mouth are the words, “We weren’t doing anything I swear.”

Tsuyoshi raises both eyebrows at that statement, leaning his elbow on the bar's top. Takeshi’s pink from ear to ear, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Of course you weren’t,” Tsuyoshi says, with a slow, shark-like smile. “Takeshi is only fourteen, after all. And he’s a good boy.”

Squalo shoots Takeshi a sharp look. _Good boy my ass,_ he thinks as he slowly sits back down. Takeshi props his chin in his palm, smiling still, still blushing and fuck. Squalo turns his attention to the manual. “So,” he says, “Explain to me the rules for visiting humans again?”

Tsuyoshi chuckles and flips through the book to do just that.

* * *

Hayato sat with the mug in his hands. The porcelain was hot, almost too hot to touch. The cocoa was steaming. Miniature marshmallows melted on its surface. He sat at the table, to Tsuna’s right, staring down at the mug in silence.

The other three at the table had coffee. He could smell it, had smelled it, when he walked into the Sawada household. Mama sat across from Tsuna and Reborn sat at the end of the table. Gokudera shivered as Tsuna bent his head into his field of vision and gave a little smile, “You sure you’re okay, Hayato?”

“Yeah Tenth,” He said, even though he wasn’t sure at all.  He glanced up but Tsuna looked just as concerned as he had sounded. His eyes were a warm brown color, just like normal. “I’m good.”

Tsuna nodded to him. Then he turned his attention to Reborn and asked, “Reborn, I want to know about the Vongola’s history with ghouls. What can you tell me?”

Reborn sighed heavily, as if the inevitable had finally arrived and all his attempts to change the future had failed. Gokudera glanced up to see resignation on the baby’s face as he sipped from his small cup of coffee. “Not much, but this what I do know.”

As he began to explain, Gokudera clutched his mug of cocoa.

If he thought Italy’s ghouls had been awful when he was living there, it was nothing compared to the history that Reborn recounted. Gokudera was sure he would never sleep easily again.


	3. The Cloud Battle and A Claim Dispute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So tomorrow is a holiday or whatever and I could post this early in the morning but fuck it I'm gonna post it tonight. I'm excited for everyone to read this! It's getting pretty intense!

“The baseball field!” Takeshi gasped, dashing ahead of the group. “They set it up here?” Said field had been transformed into a circular enclosure with barbed wires and turrets. He stopped several feet behind the wire, looking somewhere between excited and upset. “How come  _ my  _ match wasn’t on the baseball field?” 

Tsuna snorted at his friend’s tone. Joining him at a safe(ish) distance from the ring, he said, “I guess someone wanted to throw a shark into your match more than they wanted to have you fight with guns pointing at you.”

Hayato, at his other side, muttered, “Because boobytrapping the fighting ring is a necessary complication.” 

Tsuna gave him an amused glance. Hayato had been quieter ever since their conversation last night, but he hadn’t pulled away. He looked more stubborn than afraid, now, and Tsuna was confident his friend would stay at his side. “When does the mafia make anything  _ less  _ complicated on purpose?”

Ryouhei laughed brightly at that. He had brought another bag with him, presumably once more full of chilled bottles of blood for any thirsty ghouls. Chrome already toyed with the lid of hers, her shortened trident tucked into the crook of her elbow like a beloved child. She gave Tsuna a smile when he looked to her. Hovering nearby her was Chikusa and Ken, protective and curious over the whole ordeal.

“Aw,” Takeshi said suddenly, “Hibari-san’s opponent isn’t human.” 

Looking in the field it was clear to see Hibari’s opponent. “What is that?” Tsuna asked, frowning at the enormous machine. He shifted his shoulder a second before Reborn settled on it, tucking one knee under the other and twisting his small hand in Tsuna’s hair for stability. 

“It’s called a Mosca,” Reborn said, “Gola Mosca. A robot assassin utilized by the Varia.”

“Mm,” Tsuna frowned. He looked at the machine, large even from the distance he was at, and imposing because of its size. “You can have a robot be a guardian? A  _ cloud  _ guardian? Isn’t the point of a cloud to be independent of the center and be able to protect the sky and the main family from the outside?” 

“Yes. That is one of the functions of a cloud.”

Tsuna chewed on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully as the Cervello woman declared the battle to start after declaring that there were mines as well as gatling guns in the field. The ring sounded more like a battlefield than any of the other sets so far, but considering how both the Varia and Cervello knew Hibari’s ghoul status, Tsuna wasn’t too surprised. A smirk tugged at his lips, though, as he thought the same kind of measures would be taken if Hibari had been a human. 

One look to the Varia told him that, despite the fact that Xanxus had dragged along his gaudy chair to lounge in, this match was serious. Xanxus kept one hand at his side, no matter how he shifted. Considering his weapons were guns, Tsuna assumed that Xanxus was keeping them close at hand in case anything happened.

After hearing Reborn talk about Italian ghouls the night before, Tsuna wasn’t all that surprised. 

What  _ was  _ surprising was the ease in Squalo’s posture next to his boss. Gone were the tightly folded arms over his chest from the Mist ring battle. He had one hand on his hip, the other resting casually on the back of Xanxus’s chair. Takeshi waved to his boyfriend and got a dismissive head toss in return. Tsuna rolled his eyes at the exchange. 

Hibari, tonfas out, approached Mosca with his steps confident. Tsuna gave him his full attention, smiling easily now. Robot or not, he hoped Mosca gave Hibari something interesting to chew on. An unsatisfied Hibari tended to lash out and Tsuna’s battle was next. He didn’t want to strain himself too much by stepping in as Hibari’s stress relief before he fought with Xanxus.

Mosca took off the ground with smoke and fire, barrelling towards Hibari with his hand outstretched. Rockets exploded from his gunbarrel fingertips and flew at Hibari. Tsuna lifted his hand against the ensuing smoke and spray of dirt as each rocket went wild. 

Hibari, without seeming to stop his casual stride, ended up on the other side of Mosca, his jacket rippling in the backlash of wind as Mosca landed in the dirt, one arm torn off and sparking and the head split. Without a word, Hibari snapped the two ring halves together. He turned towards the Cervello women, hand outstretched, and opened his mouth to speak.

Whatever he was about to say never came out. The wind shifted at that moment, bringing the smoke that rose from Mosca drifting towards Hibari. His expression went from flat and bored to ghoulish in a second. 

Hayato jumped at Tsuna’s side. Tsuna put his hand on his friend’s arm, squeezing it to remind him that he wasn’t alone. Hayato grabbed him in return, panting softly. “Fuck.” 

Hibari’s nostrils flared. His red eyes focused on Mosca’s collapsed body. A little smile played at his lips as he curled his hand around the ring and dropped it into his pocket. 

“What is it?” Takeshi asked, “What does he smell?” He was taking in deep breaths, scenting the air eagerly. The wind blew in the wrong direction, though, and they couldn’t smell what Hibari could.

Not that Tsuna needed to in order to know what that expression meant on Hibari’s face. There was blood in the air and he was hungry. 

Tsuna glanced to Xanxus again. The man sat forward in his chair, eyes widening as Hibari approached the robot. He looked tense from shoulder to foot, coiled like a spring about to bounce up into action. 

“Fuck!” Hayato suddenly shouted. He immediately clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle himself as Tsuna looked back to the fight. 

Hibari’s bikaku swept low behind him, the twin tails jagged like the spike addition to his tonfas. As he approached the robot, the red organs flashed forward. They struck like snakes, cutting off the head and limbs of the robot. Hibari’s eyes gleamed as he climbed onto the dismembered robot and dug his fingers into the center of its chest. 

Metal groaned and snapped under his ghoulish strength. It peeled back like the skin of an orange, bending under Hibari’s hand and, occasionally, his boot. When he’d made a big enough hole, Hibari crouched down and stuck his head and shoulders inside. 

“He’s-,” Hayato whispered, “He’s eating. Isn’t he.”

“He won,” Takeshi said like that explained everything. If you understood Hibari, the way that Takeshi sometimes did and the way Tsuna often did, it would. 

There was a low growling sound that made Hayato step closer to Tsuna. Glancing over his shoulder, Tsuna saw Chrome staring with rapt attention at the robot and Hibari’s body crouched on top of it. 

“Yes,” Tsuna said gently, “He is eating.”

“Is that… Can he do that?”

“Not only are we in Namimori,” Tsuna said, “But we’re on school grounds. This is the heart of Hibari’s territory so yeah. He can.” 

Hibari drew back slowly with blood on his face that he wiped off with one sleeve. Standing up, he gave a dismissive glance to the Varia, pronouncing his judgement, “Those who do damage to Namimori’s grounds will be bitten to death.” 

He jumped down off the robot and walked towards the edge of the arena. His bikaku receded as he walked and his eyes returned to their human appearance. With a flick of his wrist, Hibari tossed the ring at Tsuna. “I have no need of this.” 

Tsuna caught it with both hands. “Hibari-san,” he began but his voice faded off as he saw Hibari had already turned his back on him. He was looking at the Varia again, tonfas in hand. 

“We won?” Hayato whispered. 

“Shit,” Tsuna hissed, focused on Hibari. He ran towards the ring. “Hibari-san, wait.” 

“I am going to bite the monkey boss to death,” Hibari declared, not taking his eyes off of Xanxus. “I will not leave until then.”

“Xanxus is  _ my  _ prey,” Tsuna told him. “You can’t have him.”

Hibari rounded on Tsuna. “You claimed him?” 

“Yes.” Tsuna said without hesitation. “Xanxus is mine.”

They stared at each other, Hibari’s eyes black and red, Tsuna’s white and brown. “Witnesses?” 

Tsuna glanced to Takeshi. But he shrugged and said, “I called my dibs on Squalo. I didn’t hear you call any on Xanxus.” 

Hibari looked to Ryouhei, who rubbed the back of his head, “We didn’t hear any claim either.” Chrome shook her head beside him. 

Tsuna clenched his hands into fists. “I’m calling him now, then. Xanxus is mine.” 

Hibari lifted his chin, his mouth falling open. He was panting. Tsuna licked his lips nervously. “Then I challenge you for him.” That was all he got as a warning before Hibari lunged for him. 

* * *

“Fuck,” Squalo took a step forward, “Fuck, Xanxus, this is bad.”

On the other side of the cloud arena, the ghoul cloud guardian had lost his mind and attacked Sawada. His bikaku flashed red, slashing through the air in tandem to the rest of his body. Sawada ducked and dodged and deflected different attacks with flame and his gloves, but hadn’t gotten a strike in yet. 

“You don’t fucking say,” Xanxus snarled, rising out of his chair. “Isn’t that the ghoul you say runs this fucking town?”

“Yeah,” Squalo nodded. “That’s what I was told, anyway.”

“Fuck,” Xanxus spat. “What got him started on Sawada? Goddamn it, they  _ won  _ didn’t they? What’s this about?”

“The ghouls in this town are pretty fucked up, aren’t they?” Bel asked, grinning. “What’s gonna happen if that one takes out the heir? Won’t that make the Boss the Decimo by default?”

Xanxus grit his teeth. He hadn’t wanted any of this to fucking begin with. If Iemitsu hadn’t opposed Nono’s decision-

“Hey Squalo! And everyone else. Mind if we hang out over here?” Yamamoto was trotting over to their side of the field. He held onto the arm of the storm guardian and the others were trailing behind him. Even Reborn was following, although, from his perch on the sun’s shoulder, he could still watch the fight between the other two. 

“Voi!” Squalo shouted, “What the fuck is going on between your boss and cloud? Didn’t that damn ghoul just fucking eat? Why is he attacking Sawada?”

“There was a claim dispute,” Yamamoto said. “Hibari said he wanted to fight Xanxus and Tsuna said that he couldn’t because he’d claimed Xanxus. But he didn’t actually claim him until after Hibari had called it out.”

“...claim dispute?” Xanxus asked, looking to Squalo. His right hand had spent an evening in the company of Namimori ghouls specifically to understand their insanity so he expected him to know something. 

Squalo bit his lip and then muttered, “It’s a part of the Namimori hunting rules and regulations. A ghoul can lay claim to any human in Namimori for whatever purpose they want, designating that human as under their protection for their use. A dispute over a claim means the two ghouls have to fight over the rights to the human.”

Xanxus’s stomach churned at those words. He swallowed, hard. His gaze flicked away from Squalo to the two teenagers fighting over him. “But Sawada isn’t a ghoul… I’ve met his parents. He’s not a ghoul.” 

Gokudera, perhaps the only sane one of Sawada’s guardians, sank down to the ground and put his head between his knees. “Oh my god,” he moaned out.

“You’re remembering wrong,” Yamamoto said, crossly. He walked right up to Squalo and poked him in the chest, “You’re saying it like ghouls take humans as food slaves or something, Squalo. That rule only applies like that to those who come from outside Namimori and have been determined already to be destructive to the town. You and Xanxus and the rest of the Varia falls under that category because you’ve destroyed town property and you’re foreign.”

Abruptly, he turned to gesture to the crouching Gokudera, “Someone like Gokudera, who’s a resident here and hasn’t done damage to Namimori, can’t just be claimed like that. He could have a ghoul be his protector without his consent, but he can’t have his body rights taken from him.” He folded his arms across his chest and looked to Xanxus, frowning, “Consent is important. A ghoul can call dibs all they want to a Namimori resident, but if the human doesn’t consent, it’s only a protector’s clause. That ghoul can’t eat that human or harm them without being considered a criminal and getting charged for it.”

“You’re missing the point entirely, kid,” Squalo said sharply. He grabbed Yamamoto by the shoulder and turned him back to yell at him properly, “They can’t fight over the boss because Sawada isn’t a fucking ghoul. His father and mother are human.”

There was a series of explosions that caught their attention. Half of the cloud field’s mines had gone off. Dirt and dust filled the air in a cloud. Wind swept it across the ground towards them and Xanxus lifted his arm to block out the worst of it. Through the haze he saw two bodies standing, the ghoul with his bikaku still extended standing on a piece of Mosca’s broken body and Sawada down to one knee on the other side of the barbed wire fence. 

The dust cleared slowly and Xanxus could see blood down the side of Sawada’s face and dampening a patch on his shirt. The boy’s gloves blazed with orange flames and his expression was wholly serious as he regarded the cloud guardian, Hibari. 

“This is so fucked up,” Xanxus whispered. He hadn’t come to Namimori for  _ this.  _ Hell, he hadn’t wanted to come here at  _ all.  _ “They’re going to kill each other over nothing.”

“You’re not nothing,” Yamamoto said, giving Xanxus a strange, half lidded look. “I see what Tsuna meant by you being sweet. I don’t have as good a nose as him or Hibari, but up close, I can smell it too.” 

Xanxus stared at him. “...the fuck?”

Yamamoto gave a broad smile and stepped closer to Squalo, patting him on the chest with his palm, “My type is much more like this guy here. He smells like metal and salt. But you’re sweet smelling, Xanxus. Like a sweet meat. Tsuna and Hibari have similar palates, so that’s why they’re both interested in you.” He reached up for a lock of Squalo’s hair and got his hand swatted away. “Aw, c’mon, we’re dating Squalo, lemme touch your hair.”

“Fuck you,” Squalo snarled, “Can’t you take this seriously? Your friends are killing each other!”

Gokudera laughed shakily from where he sat on the ground, “Good fucking luck getting him to be serious!” 

Xanxus looked at the clearly traumatized kid and then up at the ghoul teen who was sheepishly shaking his slapped hand. “...Fuck. I have to stop them, don’t I.”

“I would not!” the sun guardian suddenly said. “That would be an extremely bad idea! It is best to let them fight it out until Hibari is tired! That is the only way to curb his extreme anger. Believe me, I’ve fought him many times until he got bored and that is the best option here.”

“...and how long will that take?” Xanxus asked.

“Ah. A few hours?” the teen said. “I am unaware of how much energy Hibari still contains this evening. He looks like he is ready to fight to the extreme!”

“He was planning on a Hunt after Tsuna’s battle,” Yamamoto said, “So he’s probably hungry too.”

“Really?” Bel suddenly interjected, strolling over. He leaned into Yamamoto’s space, grinning, “Even after he ripped open Gola Mosca and ate out its heart? You ghouls are hungry even after feeding?”

Yamamoto blinked at Bel, “Hello.” He gave a sniff of the air, “Belphegor, right?” 

“That’s right. The prince is pleased that you remember his name.” He laughed, “Are you going to answer the prince’s question?”

“Hmm?” Yamamoto blinked again. Xanxus narrowed his gaze. Was the kid dazed by something? What the fuck? “Oh. Hibari didn’t feed for very long on whoever was in the robot. He probably only ate enough to kill them. He’s picky about his food.” Yamamoto laughed, “Actually, a lot of us are pretty picky. We’ve all got different types, except for those two.”

“Bel,” Squalo shoved the young man back with a hand to his shoulder, “Fuck off.”

“Aww, c’mon, can’t the prince talk to your ghoul boyfriend? I want to know more about him!” 

“I can’t fucking believe I’m doing this,” Xanxus said, interrupting their stupid banter. Watching the battle, he saw that Sawada was favoring a leg, now, and still was only keeping his fists up and defending himself. “That old fuck owes me big time for stopping this stupidity and saving his son’s life.” 

He began to walk towards the fight, drawing his gun as he did. 

“Hey!” Yamamoto called to his back, “Wait! You can’t be going into the fight! That’s against the rules!”

“Shut up,” Xanxus snarled. “I only came to take the goddamn rings from this brat, not to get him killed by a fucking ghoul!” 

“Don’t do that!” Yamamoto shouted. 

“Don’t bother,” Xanxus heard Squalo say, “You won’t be able to stop the boss once he makes up his mind like that.” 

Xanxus’s heart was pounding as he approached the two fighting. 

No matter what those kids had said, he couldn’t believe Sawada was a ghoul. He’d met with Iemitsu several times. The man was the external advisor to his father, after all, and attended plenty of Vongola functions where there was human food and drink available. The man was human, through and through, and everyone knew that a ghoul and a human couldn’t have a child. 

There were stories he’d heard as a kid, things he’d seen before Nono had taken him in, that proved to him that it was impossible. Either the infant would be absorbed or they would starve to death or the pregnancy would kill the mother. There were no other options. There was no way to have half a ghoul and half a human.

(But there was the girl, the girl named Chrome with one ghoul eye and Xanxus couldn’t quite put her out of his head.)

Besides, Sawada fought like a human, without any kagune, and he was clearly injured while Hibari looked almost untouched. It was clear who had the upper hand and who was the ghoul.

Now that Sawada had won the majority of the ring battles and was the legitimate heir, Xanxus couldn’t stand aside and let him be slaughtered by a ghoul, not even his own cloud. A guardian could be replaced, but Sawada was Nono’s last hope, was Xanxus’s only escape from becoming the leader of the Vongola.

The Varia was enough for him. Nono understood that. Xanxus understood that.

Hell, even Iemitsu understood that. It wasn’t ambition that had brought Xanxus to Namimori. It wasn’t some scrap of duty or sense of obligation to the Vongola, either. 

No, Xanxus was much more petty than that. 

It was the fact that Iemitsu had knelt in front of him, on the cold stone floor of his office in the Varia’s fortress, and had wept, pleading with Xanxus to protect his precious,  _ adorable  _ son from the Mafia life. 

_ “Tsuna’s just a little boy, just a sweet child. He doesn’t deserve to lose his childhood, his life, to this kind of existence. Please. Please. Become the Decimo and save my son. I'll get you anything you want in return.” _

Xanxus lifted his gun and lined up his shot to the back of the cloud guardian as he lunged for that sweet little Sawada boy. A cloud could be replaced, but not the Sawada boy. Not if Xanxus wanted Iemitsu to owe him one, owe him  _ anything,  _ for the rest of that miserable fool’s undoubtedly short life.

His finger squeezed the trigger. 

 

* * *

 

_**At That Same Time in Italy......** _

 

“Tonight’s the cloud battle.”

Timoteo’s hand hesitated as he lifted his glass to his lips. 

He and two of his guardians were in his office, each with a drink in hand. The sunlight was red as it dripped through the curtain of the western window. The normally yellow glow was bloody as it filled the room. Ominous. He didn’t like how cold that red light was. 

“It is.” He finished lifting his glass and sipped the brandy inside. “Three to three, this is the deciding match.”

“Xanxus is using his Mosca,” Visconti said, looking up from the file that was balanced on his knee. Across the room sat Ganauche, silent still, with his feet up on the low coffee table and his eyes on the far wall. “Tsuna’s cloud guardian is a year older than himself, a boy by the name of Hibari Kyouya.”

“Mm,” Timoteo reached for his bottle to add more to his drink.

“A kid against a Mosca?” Ganauche finally said, “A  _ Varia  _ Mosca?” 

Timoteo said nothing. They all knew what a Mosca was capable of. It was a death machine. They used them all the time to scour the sewers clean of ghouls. One on one, they were incredible foes. No human boy would survive. Surely, the cloud match would land in Xanxus’s favor and then, well.

“I never thought Sawada would be quite so selfish,” Visconti muttered. “Does he think we  _ want  _ to leave the Vongola in the hands of a fourteen year old civilian raised boy?”

“You can’t blame him for wanting to protect his family. It’s what he’s been doing for years, after all. They had no idea what he was until we sent Reborn to teach Tsuna.” Ganauche drained his glass after he spoke. He rose slowly, sighing as he walked over to Timoteo’s desk. The older man pushed the bottle towards him silently and Ganauche took it. He refilled his drink. 

“Perhaps I can’t blame him for having that desire,” Visconti said, “But I can blame him for acting on it. He’s put his personal wants above the good of the Vongola family.” 

When neither one of the other two men said a word, Visconti stood. “Because of him, civilian teenagers were pitted against trained, experienced assassins. Because of him, a  _ five year old child  _ was put in the hospital. If he wanted so much to keep his family safe, to keep his family out of this life, he went about it in the most selfish and stupid way. Namimori was completely unknown before this inheritance squabble.

“Iemitsu put Namimori on the map and he seems to have forgotten that it is not just humans that have an interest in Vongola dealings. Or did he simply not pay attention to why there is this need for an heir in the first place?” 

Ganauche sipped his drink, leaning against the desk, facing Visconti. He glanced down to Timoteo out of the corner of his eye. 

His aging boss rubbed at the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut. “If we cannot trust Iemitsu’s judgement anymore, then we rely all the more on Reborn. He is the one who has spent the last few months with the boy, training him to take over as Decimo.” He lowered his hands and looked up at his guardians, first Visconti and then Ganauche. Then, he turned to look at the blood red sky through the sheer curtains.

“If Reborn says that he’s ready, then all we can do is wait and see.” He chuckled dryly, with the barest hint of amusement, “Who knows? Maybe the boy’s got something that can surprise even Xanxus.”


	4. An End to the Game: Sky Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another early update! Mostly because sitting on this chapter is almost painful and also because I want an extra day on the oneshot I'd usually put up on Saturday. Its another KHR crossover piece. Anyway: heads up! Things are about to Go Down.  
> (Keep in mind the tags, lovely readers, this chapter is where some of the more serious ones start acting up.)
> 
> Happy Friday the 13th yo

The crack of gunfire cuts right through the night. One shot and then three more in quick succession.

Bright red blood splattered across the dirt, turning dark almost instantly. Bits of Hibari’s bikaku hit the ground hard enough to spray blood.

Tsuna had seen, just seconds before, Xanxus approaching with the shine of gunmetal in his hand. He hadn’t had enough time to get Hibari out of the way, but Hibari had been moving at the time. The first bullet had only caught kagune, which could easily grow back, but two of the other three struck home.

Tonfa smacked Tsuna’s cheek without any weight behind it, the weapon following the predetermined motion of a hand and arm that was no longer attached to anything. Tsuna saw Hibari’s eyes grow wide, wider than he’d ever seen them before. Shock wiped his expression clear of the narrowed determination he wore.

Tsuna couldn’t look at that face. His eyes dropped down. There was another hole in Hibari’s side, in the abdomen. The soft part of his body, between ribs and hipbone, was ripped out, the flesh burned by flame. Not burnt enough to stop him from bleeding, no. Not burnt enough to keep his organs from slipping out, no.

“Kyoya-” Tsuna whispered, reaching for him.

Hibari’s eyes are no longer on him, either. They’re staring at the ground.

Or rather, he’s staring at his arm, which is on the ground. Detached from his body.

It’s that Intuition that Reborn had told him about that makes Tsuna move next. He kicks off the ground, tackling Hibari backwards, just as another shot rings through the air and flame burns through the space where Hibari’s head just was. They hit with a solid thump, Hibari too stunned, too shocked, to even try and brace himself. His head bounces. He lets out a whoosh of breath that’s startlingly warm against Tsuna’s cheek. Warm and wet. Flecked with blood.

He has to get Hibari something to eat, Tsuna knows this instantly. Something to stop the bleeding and something to eat and someone to get his arm and-

“The fuck are you doing, trash? Are you really protecting the ghoul that was trying to kill you?”

_Xanxus._

Hibari’s eyes meet his and he bares his teeth. His gums are bloody, his teeth too, his lips flecked with foamy, frothy blood. He’s breathing it. He shouldn’t be, Tsuna knows, that second shot was too low, wasn’t it? _Wasn’t it?_ Fuck. He’s not sure. “Bite him,” Hibari says. His voice is as soft as his breath. _“Bite him.”_

Tsuna leans in and presses a kiss to Hibari’s cheek. He gets snapped at, snarled at, but he doesn’t care if it’s not the place to kiss.

(Violence is reserved for fights. Affection is reserved for moments of respite. Violence could be displayed publicly, to assert dominance. Affection was to be shared privately, to preserve intimacy. Tsuna knows these rules as well as he knows what kind of meat Hibari likes best and as well as he knows the feel of Hibari’s hands on his skin.)

Tsuna kisses his cheek because he has to, he must. If he doesn’t, he’ll hate himself forever if Hibari doesn’t survive. “Kyoya,” he whispers. “Don’t die.”

“Bite. Him.” Is Hibari’s only response, his teeth snapping together as if Tsuna needs a tutorial on how to fucking bite a human.

Tsuna bares his teeth in reply. He rises to his feet, flames blazing, and turns to face Xanxus. “I’ve won the ring battles,” He snarled, taking a step forward to keep himself between Xanxus and Hibari. “You had no business interfering like that.”

“No business, huh,” Xanxus said, drawing his second gun. He had them both trained towards Tsuna, though one was slightly lower, clearly aiming for Hibari still. “Seeing you dead wasn’t exactly my plan, trash.”

“Oh _please,”_ Tsuna lifted his fists, “You don’t care about whether I live or die.”

“You’re right,” Xanxus remarked, “I don’t. But there is someone who does and he will give me anything I want when he hears I saved your ass from being a ghoul’s lunch.”

“Who is that?”

“Your father.”

Tsuna actually lowered his fists. He blinked in surprise, his concentration flickering like the flames he had summoned. “My father? What does he have to do with any of this? I mean, I know he’s involved in the Vongola business- He picked out my lightning guardian for me- but what about the rest of it?”

“How fucking clueless are you?” Xanxus asked, “You were chosen by my father to succeed him as the Decimo, although he had to send Reborn to clean you up and beat you into a proper mafioso. _Your_ father is the one who sent _me,_ begging for me to take the ring and keep you from throwing your life away to the Vongola family and its troubles.” He sneered, his lip pulling up, and spat on the ground. “As if any civilian scum like you could ever run a family like the Vongola.”

Tsuna narrowed his eyes as little pieces of information fit into place. He hadn’t understood why his father had chosen Lambo- except if the man wanted him to _lose_ that match, of course choosing a five year old to fight would have been the wisest choice. (Which, Tsuna realized with a start, meant Iemitsu had sent a five year old against a known assassin, anticipating their death.)

The rest of his guardians had been either his choice or contacted for him by Reborn. Iemitsu had even come back to try and talk Tsuna out of running around learning to fight with Reborn and the others-

As if he didn’t understand that Tsuna had learned how to fight years ago. His mother wouldn’t have let him be helpless, not him, not her little Tsu-kun. He was her pride, her joy, her miracle.

And then Reborn had come to make him the heir apparent and Nono had chosen him-

Nono had sent those rings-

Only to have _his own father_ choose Xanxus instead?

“So…” Tsuna asked, turning this information over quickly in his head, “You’re only here because my dad asked you to? I’m surprised.”

“Yeah? Why is that?”

“You don’t seem like the type to do something like this just because someone asked you to nicely.”

Xanxus blinked for a second, in silence, and then began to laugh. He really let himself laugh, tipping his head back and lifting one hand to press the heel to his temple, his gun aimed up into the air. “Really! And you know just what type of man I am?”

Tsuna licked his lips and smiled. “Why, of course I do. It’s all in your scent.” He took a couple of quick steps forwards. Instantly, Xanxus had his guns aimed at Tsuna. Both of them this time. Hibari hadn’t moved since they had started talking and no longer appeared to be a threat.

“You owe me an arm and a lot of blood,” Tsuna said, lifting his fists to either side. His flame flared with his conviction as he spoke, “I promised to take a bite out of you for Hibari, and, when it comes to one of my friends, Xanxus, I always keep my promises.”

“Come and try it, trash,” Xanxus snarled, “I’ll get my revenge on Iemitsu through you one way or another. I’m not that fucking picky.”

With that, Tsuna flung himself into battle. He immediately took off to the side, putting as much distance between himself and Hibari as he could. He had to give that space so the others could help with Hibari’s wounds.

Once he had forced Xanxus to turn away from Hibari to keep Tsuna in his sights, he pivoted on his toes and went right at him. His blood was rushing in his ears. His flames were burning bright, almost blinding on his fists. A whisper of fore-knowledge, like a cool touch on his skin or a soft monotone voice in the back of his head, told Tsuna that his Hyper Intuition was alight as well. It felt like a second being inside of his blood, deep in his bones like a brain that belonged to his muscles, not his conscious thought.

Briefly, as he ducked under the flaming trail of Xanxus’s shots, Tsuna thought of Chrome, who had shown up early that morning at his house, bloodied from her hunting with Ryouhei and shivering. He had asked her to come by, so he could talk to her one on one, and had discovered that, unlike his other ghoulish friends, she had once been human. Fully human.

The way she talked about the ghoul hunger inside of her body reminded Tsuna of the way his Intuition felt. Not quite like someone else was there, inside of him, but like a part of his body belonged to something _more._ Something _greater._

Tsuna had felt like that for a while now. That he belonged to something more. That he was destined for something greater. Reborn had certainly told him that was the case, those months ago when he appeared at his house for the first time. _Mafia boss,_ was what Reborn was attempting to style him into. Tsuna wasn’t so sure about that.

Tsuna knocked aside one of Xanxus’s bullets and twisted his body to simultaneously bring himself closer to Xanxus and to also avoid another shot.

Reborn was honest, surprisingly so, with what he wanted from Tsuna. _Find your guardians. Defeat the Varia and get the rings. Become the Vongola Decimo._ Maybe it was that honesty in his goals that had lead him to be honest about the Vongola and their bloody history- not just with ghouls but in dealings with some of the other famiglias.

If he knew what Tsuna was planning, now that he had that information, he probably wouldn’t have been so forthcoming.

Tsuna was close enough that he could smell Xanxus’s sweat, the salt of it almost overpowering the sweetness of his flesh. Xanxus was focused, his eyes following Tsuna, his guns following the path of his eyes. He was bringing one down and in, ready to tuck it under Tsuna’s chin and blow his damn head off.

But Tsuna was quick. And he was hungry.

He put a foot on Xanxus’s knee, using it as a support as he reached up with his hands. He didn’t punch, no, not yet and that alien in his bones told him how to move his arms so that Xanxus’s head jerk brought him into reach, not out of it. He gripped Xanxus by the chin with one hand and by the shirt collar with the other. “This is for Kyoya,” he whispered, almost in Xanxus’s ear.

Just as he felt the barrel of the gun press against the soft skin under his chin, Tsuna snapped his teeth together over bare flesh.

He yanked his head back as Xanxus’s finger pulled the trigger. Flame burned as it seared past his own cheek and ear, turning a chunk of his hair into char and turning his skin red and blistering. Tsuna didn’t care.

Xanxus’s blood was an explosion of flavor in his mouth. He pushed off of the man, hitting the ground awkwardly and falling to his knee because of it. Tsuna chewed the small bit of flesh he’d snatched slowly. He had to savor it. Because, _god,_ Xanxus tasted better than he smelled.

Tsuna swallowed slowly. He licked his lips, tasting blood on them, and shivered. He brought up one hand, covering his mouth, covering the drool that dripped when he opened his mouth to pant for breath.

“Fuck!” Xanxus was shouting, “What the fuck was that!?” He took several steps back, eyes wide now, staring at Tsuna.

Looking up, Tsuna’s eyes focused immediately on Xanxus’s neck. Blood dripped down from where Tsuna had bitten off a chunk of his ear. It was red, so dark and so red, and he couldn’t look away.

“Your eyes-” Xanxus wasn’t shouting anymore. He took another step back. “What the fuck is wrong with your eyes?”

Tsuna blinked once, slowly. It took a moment of actual concentration before he was aware of what had happened. His vision hadn’t changed much, as using his flames often augmented his vision in the same way as his ghoulish eye. But of course he was reacting to the mouthful of blood he’d gotten. Of course he was reacting to the heady scent of Xanxus’s blood in the air.

Tsuna got to his feet. He swallowed back more saliva so he could speak. “Nothing is wrong with them,” he said.

“It’s like that girl,” Xanxus said. “You have one ghoul eye. That’s… What the fuck is that? What the fuck is this place? What kind of bullshit ghoul experiments are you running in this fucking town?” His voice rose as he tossed out questions. His guns were up, trained on Tsuna. His arms were shaking, ever so slightly.

“I’m not an experiment,” Tsuna said. He slid a foot forward, slinking down into a crouch. “I’m a goddamn miracle.” His eyes focused again on Xanxus’s neck and the blood drying there.

He was glad he’d worn such a loose shirt when his rinkaku burst from his back. Xanxus shot at him, but Tsuna was done holding back. His hunger opened within him like a gaping dark pit, lined with teeth all the way down, and Xanxus was the ideal snack. His flames could only manifest at his fists, but he had never needed them to fight before.

Before Reborn, Tsuna’s rinkaku had been all he needed to take down his prey. After Reborn, Tsuna’s fists were useful as propulsion, jettisoning him across the distance between him and Xanxus. Even with the terror that Tsuna could smell in the air, not all of it coming from Xanxus, but certainly he was the closest source, he didn’t back down. Tsuna grinned at him.

“No wonder Kyoya wanted to fight you,” Tsuna said as Xanxus slipped out of his reach and flames tore at his clothing, burned his skin again. “You’re absolutely a carnivore. And with your back against the wall, you’re _vicious.”_

He narrowly dodged another shot, felt the pain race up from his rinkaku, and winced. Yet, Tsuna pressed on, harrying Xanxus backwards, farther off the field, closer towards the buildings. He could heal later. He would shed the burned skin once he fed properly and rested at home.

“What a _fucking_ hypocrite,” Xanxus snarled. His anger was a sharp scent that cut through the fear. Tsuna stumbled, sucking in a deep breath because Xanxus pissed off was far more delicious than Xanxus afraid.

Tsuna blinked, “Eh?”

“Your _father.”_ Xanxus spat, “Is a _goddamn_ hypocrite.”

“I… don’t get it?” Tsuna asked, hesitating. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve met the man,” Xanxus said, “I know he’s a damn human. But you, you’re his kid. He’s talked _endlessly_ about his adorable little Tuna fish, his son. I’ve seen pictures of you as little snot nose brat. Pictures of you and your mother, in fact.”

“...And?” Tsuna asked, edging to the side. They were nearly off the field now. There was a narrow gap between the sport shed and the school building that he had to make sure Xanxus didn’t escape between. The shed was liable to collapse under their fighting, unless Tsuna could use his rinkaku to-

“He loathes ghouls,” Xanxus said. He shifted his feet, bracing himself, eyeing Tsuna. Clearly, he expected an attack while he was talking. “When I took over the Varia, I started letting them in as long as they swore not to feed on anyone in the group. I had about twenty good members when he found out what I was doing.

“Twenty ghouls that swore to work for me. Twenty ghouls that I swore to lead. And _your bastard of a father_ said that the Vongola would pull all of its backing, all of its support, and abandon the Varia if I didn’t get rid of them.” Xanxus’s lips twisted in a snarl, baring his teeth like a lion as he shouted, “But it wasn’t enough to kick them out, oh no. He wanted them dead.”

Tsuna’s skin crawled at those words. His stomach clenched like he’d swallowed a mouthful of human food. “...what?”

Xanxus gestured with his gun as he spoke, moving it from side to side in the air, as if he were taking twenty invisible shots. “One right after the other, all in a line. I executed twenty of my men because of him. Shooting them wasn’t enough, either. He had one of his fucking subordinates take off their heads and burn the bodies, too.

“He watched the whole time. Watched me line them up. Watched me shoot them. Watched them be beheaded. Watched their bodies burn.” Xanxus narrowed his eyes, “And then, when it was all said and done, he turned to that little blue eyed fucker that calls him _‘Master’_ and said, _‘I’m famished. What should we have for dinner?’”_

Tsuna lowered his fists. His flame died out, fading as his horror rose. “He… he did that?” His rinkaku shrank back, responding to the chill he felt to circle protectively around himself.

“Oh?” Xanxus smirked, “You didn’t have any idea, did you? What kind of monster your human father was.”

“Would they have-” Tsuna shuddered, “Would they really have discarded the Varia over twenty ghouls?” He gestured absently towards their onlookers, from where Reborn watched, “Reborn told me some about the Vongola’s hunting of the ghouls. He told me how they fight against each other. He told me that it's because of ghouls that I’m in this mess. Ghouls killed all of Nono’s sons, except for you.”

“Yes. They would have. The Vongola allow for no ghouls in their association. Even families allied with them must have nothing to do with ghouls.” Xanxus took a step towards Tsuna, sneering, “This is what your father made me do. This is what he has to pay for.”

Tsuna closed his eyes, looking away.

“That’s the organization that you’re going to be leader of,” Xanxus said. His voice was harsh and sank into Tsuna’s mind like ice water. Tsuna felt the rasping scale of his own rinkaku against his bare arms. “The moment you and your guardians step into that world, your lives will be in danger. If even a single Vongola member discovers your secret, they will call for your blood.”

Tsuna reached up to the ring half he had hanging from a chain around his neck. He took a deep breath and let it out, slowly. His back flexed as he pulled his rinkaku back. Opening his eyes, he looked up to Xanxus. “Why did you do this, then? What is my father giving you in exchange for this ring and title?”

Xanxus laughed. “His life.”

“...Eh?” Tsuna’s jaw dropped. “But… but you can’t...have that.”

“What do you mean? Once I’m Decimo, he won’t really have a choice in the matter.”

“No, I mean,” Tsuna shifted uncertainly. “My dad doesn’t have body rights to himself. I mean, uh, look. In Namimori-” He stopped as Xanxus, putting one of his guns away, put up his hand.

“No no, Squalo explained this. Are you telling me that there’s a ghoul that owns Iemitu’s fucking body? Does he even know about that?”

“Well, yes? He should.” Tsuna winced at Xanxus’s glare. “He married my mother? And she’s… she’s a ghoul. His life belongs to her. If you wanted to kill him, you’d have to talk to her first.”

“Your mother…” Xanxus stared at him. “What?”

“Look,” Tsuna said. He walked over to Xanxus, pausing a moment when Xanxus glared at him. “Just, I have an idea. Will you hear me out?”

“I can hear you just fine while you’re over there.” Xanxus gestured him back with his gun. “Stay over there.”

Tsuna put up his hands. “Yeah, you and everyone else. Will you let me closer, Xanxus? To keep this private.” He glanced to the side, trying to indicate that he didn’t exactly want to be overheard.

Xanxus ground his teeth audibly. “Tch. Fine.” He shoved his other gun into its holster. He gestured for Tsuna to come closer.

Tsuna did. “Look, you want to kill my dad, right?” He leaned in, whispering. Xanxus bent down to hear him better. “But if you do it without my mom’s permission, you’ll only get her pissed off at you.”

“We’re talking about your dad here. Don’t you care about his life?”

Tsuna blinked at him, “Before I saw him three weeks ago, the last time I saw my dad was four years ago. So, no, actually. I don’t really care. Especially when he treats ghouls that way. It really is better for everyone if he never comes back again.”

“...You are one cold hearted kid,” Xanxus muttered. “But fine. So I’ve got to talk to your mom? I can do that. What do you get out of this?”

Tsuna ducked his head, pulling the necklace off from around his neck. He held it out to Xanxus. “Take the ring and the title. I never wanted to be Decimo.”

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Reborn was watching, not just watching but paying attention. Tsuna glanced over to see the baby holding his gun.

Quickly, Tsuna stepped up into Xanxus’s space. He grabbed his wrist and pulled, ignoring Xanxus’s shout of “hey!”. He pushed the ring into his palm. “Take it,” Tsuna pleaded. “This will only get me and my friends killed and I refuse to do that to them. I _won’t_ let them die.”

His Intuition screamed at him and Tsuna jumped forward, tackling Xanxus to the ground. Reborn’s shot rang out over their heads. “Shit,” Tsuna hissed.

“Off,” Xanxus snapped.

Tsuna couldn’t speak. His eyes had caught sight of Xanxus’s bitten ear. His nose had caught a whiff of his drying blood. His fingers caught in Xanxus’s shirt and he couldn’t move.

“Off!” Xanxus shouted, but instead of shoving, he rolled. There was another crack of a gun and Tsuna, underneath Xanxus now, took in a sharp breath.

That did not help things. Tsuna could almost taste the iron in the air. He couldn’t even blink.

Xanxus spat out a curse and turned, “The fuck is wrong with you, Reborn?”

“Those were just warning shots,” The baby said, approaching slowly. “The next won’t be. Give Tsuna your half of the ring, Xanxus. He and his guardians won four matches of seven. Your fight with him was a non-regulated fight. It doesn’t count.”

“This is between me and the brat-” Xanxus began but the words choked off when Tsuna moved underneath him.

Tsuna, almost hypnotized, pushed himself up on one elbow. He put his mouth to Xanxus’s neck, licking up the blood that had gone tacky. He made it almost to Xanxus’s ear before the man jerked back while shoving him back to the ground with one hand. Tsuna panted, staring up at him, saliva filling his mouth. “Why?” he asked, “Why do you taste so good?”

Xanxus grunted. He batted away Tsuna’s hand when he reached up for him and then leveled a glare at Reborn. “Is this really what my father wants? A ghoul for Decimo? Ghouls for guardians?”

“Tsuna is only half-ghoul,” Reborn said. “And the Vongola will follow their leader. Timoteo chose him for this path and sent me to assure he succeeded.”

“I don’t-” Tsuna said. “I don’t want it.” He tried to sit up but Xanxus pushed him down again. Without resorting to his ghoulish strength, Tsuna was easily pinned. “I don’t _want_ to be Decimo. I never did.”

“There is no one else,” Reborn said. “Xanxus has the Varia and turned Nono down when he was first asked. You’re the only one, Tsuna. And you’re going to be Decimo.”

 _“Never,”_ Tsuna bared his teeth at Reborn. “These ring battles nearly killed Lambo and Gokudera. _Hibari lost his arm._ I don’t even know if he’s going to survive! I _refuse_ to be Decimo. You can’t _make_ me anymore, Reborn. I’ve already given the ring to Xanxus.”

“You don’t have a choice, Tsunayoshi,” Reborn said. “You will become the Decimo.”

“Will not.” Tsuna said, grinning.

Xanxus rolled his eyes, “Don’t be stupid, trash. Nono picked you and sent Reborn to train you. It’s not like he doesn’t know about you being a half-ghoul, though I think he’d really have to see it to believe it. You’re not going to get out of this. I’m not going to be able to give you an out.”

Tsuna’s smile fell away. The little whispering of his Intuition went quiet. Deeper in his bones, his hunger gnawed at him. He looked up at Xanxus and held his gaze. “Oh,” he said, “But you are.”

He moved quickly, not pushing to get out from under Xanxus, but sliding down, farther beneath him. Xanxus was tall, much taller than he was, but was only holding him down with that hand to his chest. Tsuna wriggled down between his legs until he could reach the gun holster at his hip. He grabbed one and pulled it out. It felt heavy, unfamiliar, but warm to the touch.

How had Xanxus used this? Filled it with his flames of wrath and shot with that? Tsuna could do that. Maybe not with any wrath, but certainly the strength of his own flames would be enough. Xanxus grabbed for his arm, but Tsuna twisted, putting his shoulder up and deflecting with his empty hand.

The barrel of the gun pressed hard against his ribcage. “Xanxus,” he said, his breath coming out in a rush, “Make sure Hibari gets a bite of me. He’ll need it to heal.”

“Tsuna-” one of them started.

Tsuna didn’t listen. He simply smiled and pulled the trigger.

There was flame and there was light, something bright orange and burning. Tsuna felt strangely at peace, almost like he was part of something bigger than himself, and that something was as big and as encompassing as the sky. He wanted to smile, to laugh. He couldn’t though.

God, but it was hard to breathe without lungs.

Hard to think, too, without blood.

But as the light faded, as everything faded, he smelled something sweet and that same sweetness was still on his lips.

What was it?

 

What _was_ it?

 

_Oh._

 

_That’s right._

 

_Blood._

 

_Good stuff, that blood._

 

_I'd love another taste._

 

Tsuna slumped over, his body crumpled around the gun and exhaled both from his lips and the gaping hole in his chest.

 

* * *

 

Ryouhei pounds across the ground the moment Tsuna takes the fight to Xanxus. His bag thumps against his side, a heavy weight, and he’s cursing himself for only bringing bottles of blood. That won’t do much, won’t be enough, to get Kyoya back to normal.

He reaches his best friend’s side in seconds, dropping down to his knees beside him. “Hey,” he says, reaching for his face. “Hey, look at me.”

Kyoya’s eyes open slowly, first a crack and then a little larger. There was drying blood on his lips and more of it in his mouth when he opened his mouth to speak. A wheezing breath and then, “Ryou...hei…”

Ryouhei sighs in relief. “It’s me. I’m here. Don’t worry. Tsuna’s taking care of that extreme asshole. I’m going to help you with your arm.”

Kyoya’s head moves over to the side. His skin is paler than normal from bloodloss. Ryouhei doesn’t spare a moment to brush the hair out of his face. Instead, he turns and reaches for Kyouya’s arm.

To his surprise, Chrome is kneeling beside him, holding it out. “Here,” She said quietly. “How can I help?”

“We’re going to try and reattach it,” Ryouhei said. He pulled back the sleeve from the detached arm. Doing the same to the sleeve on his shoulder, he lay the arm down, lining it up with the torso. With that done, Ryouhei closed his eyes and concentrated hard, summoning his flames as bright and as strong as he could.

“Sun flames?” Chrome asked. Ryouhei nodded, not opening his eyes. He could see the light of it behind his eyelids. “Will that be enough?”

He shook his head. “I’m not good at it. I need to train more with my flames. But if we give him blood and flesh…”

“Oh,” Chrome said. Ryouhei heard her, felt her, getting into the bag he still carried. “I’ll feed him this.” There was the plastic opening and then shuffling movements. He squinted against the light to see her holding the blood filled sport bottle to Kyoya’s lips. He drank, but not well. Blood ran down his cheek and chin, pooling at his throat and onto the ground.

“He needs meat,” Ryouhei muttered. “His hunger must be so extreme now.”

“Human, right?” Chrome asked, “Then I have some with me.”

“What?” He blinked, looking up at her.

Ryouhei’s mouth dropped open as Chrome rolled her shirtsleeve up to her elbow. She took the bottle away from Kyoya and pressed her pale skin to his mouth instead. “Hibari-san,” she whispered, “Please. Eat.”

“Chrome-,” Ryouhei gaped at her.

Kyoya didn’t need to be invited twice. His teeth dug into Chrome’s arm. She flinched, bit her lip, but made no noise as he bit down, ripping a chunk from her arm. Chrome held her arm in place for three more bites, before Kyoya turned his head away. He was panting, hard, his good arm reaching down to his side.

Ryouhei swallowed. “That was so extreme…”

Chrome blinked, looking up at him, and flushed. With a curl of her own mist flames, her arm went from bitten and bleeding to smooth once more. She gave a shy smile and then turned her attention to Kyoya’s side. “How is his arm?”

Ryouhei glanced down. “Attaching, but…” He didn’t know how well it was going to work. Not until he was done. He looked to Hibari’s side also. He wasn’t going to be able to handle this on his own. “Can you do anything for his side?”

Chrome nodded. She began to knit together Kyoya’s body with her mist flames. Sweat beaded on her forehead and she frowned, “He’s… he’s fighting me…I think. It’s not taking easily.”

“Kyoya, you are an idiot to the extreme!” Ryouhei shouted. “Let her use her flames on you!”

Kyoya only grunted, turning his head away.

“Helloo kids,” said a familiar voice. Ryouhei glanced up to see the man he’d fought against on the first night of the ring battles. “Looks like this is a job for more than one sun, hm? Why don’t you let me help you out?”

Chrome blinked, obviously not knowing who he was. Ryouhei grinned, “If you’re willing to help, it would  be extremely welcome!”

Lussuria smiled and knelt down beside Ryouhei. Chrome, on the other side of Kyoya, took the prone ghoul’s hand and pulled it away from the wound. “Pay attention, Ryouhei,” Lussuria said, “This is how to use your sun flames to the best of their ability.”

He put his hand over Kyoya’s wounded side and began to accelerate his healing. “It’s always easier with you ghouls,” Lussuria explained, “Your bodies are naturally more forgiving with injuries and bloodloss. You’d have to blow a hole the size of a watermelon in your chest to really be in trouble.”

“Xanxus shot off his arm,” Ryouhei said, “He lost a lot of blood to that.”

“Eh?” Lussuria cocked his head to the side. “Well. I guess that shows me for being fifteen minutes late. I figured that I’d miss the whole thing, considering it was this kid against the Mosca. I told Xanxus it was pointless to use that tin can against him, but we didn’t have any other viable clouds.”

He glanced over to the decimated robot in the ring, “I guess we still don’t.”

Ryouhei laughed. “He took that robot down without so much as a scratch! And he punched it open too. Was there someone inside?”

“That’s how Moscas work,” Lussuria nodded. “They’re powered by the life force of people. They’ll keep going until they run out of juice. Even if you dismember one, they can still self destruct.”

“Good thing Kyoya bit the person inside to death then!” Ryouhei said, grinning down at his friend. “Do you hear that, Kyoya? You protected the school from an extreme detonation!”

Kyoya grunted at him.

Ryouhei, grinning, turned to ask Lussuria something when he heard an unusual sound.

He glanced over his shoulder at the fight and was surprised to see Tsuna pinned to the ground under Xanxus. More surprising than that, however, was the little mafia baby, Reborn, walking towards them with smoke trailing from his gun.

Chrome was looking too. “Boss?” She asked, though from that distance there was no way Tsuna could hear.

They still didn’t know what they were seeing when suddenly Tsuna was twisting under Xanxus. Ryouhei took in a breath, to cheer for his friend in his escape, but it caught in his throat at the burst of bright orange light.

It was so bright it cast a stark shadow on the building next to Xanxus and Tsuna, making them appear as enormous, stretched out aberrations, painted in black up the school’s side. Immediately after the light dimmed, there was a shout of utter disbelief.

Ryouhei’s flames flickered out of existence. From where he sat he could see Tsuna, on his side, on the ground. From where he sat, he could see the gaping hole in his chest, the white of his rib bones, the red of his blood, the purple of his organs.

The whole was so large he could see the green grass on the other side of Tsuna’s body.

He couldn’t move even when he felt Kyoya’s hand limply slapping his arm. “Ryo… _Ryouhei…_ What… happened?”

He couldn’t speak. All Ryouhei could do was think that he was glad Kyoko had stayed home that night. She wouldn’t have been able to control herself if she saw Tsuna’s face like that. And if she had hurt Xanxus, she would have gotten in trouble with Kyoya.

He was so glad his baby sister was at home, asleep. She’d never forgive herself for not being here for Tsuna, but at least she wouldn’t have to see him this way. It was for the best.

It was for the best, really.

Slowly, Ryouhei turned around and looked to Kyoya. As soon as he could breathe, just as soon as he could speak, he would tell him what he saw. Kyoya loved Tsuna. He deserved the truth, even if it was awful.

Even if it would kill him to find out.

 

* * *

 

Someone was screaming Tsuna’s name.

They were _so loud_ and they weren’t _stopping._

Hayato’s whole body shook as he ran across the field. His breath was ragged and his throat raw and oh, oh it was _him._ He was the one screaming.

Fast as he took off towards his boss, his friend, his world, that dumb asshole Yamamoto was faster. Hayato’s eyes blurred with his tears. He ran after Yamamoto, cursing himself, cursing Xanxus, cursing Reborn, cursing everyone and everything because Tsuna was _dead._

Yamamoto was good for _something_ though. He threw himself at Xanxus, and, for once, the sight of his kagune didn’t make Hayato afraid. Instead, he felt furious pride. He wanted Yamamoto to _kill Xanxus._

He had never wanted anything so much before in his life.

Because of Yamamoto, Xanxus had to retreat from his position kneeling over Tsuna. He brought up one arm and a gun, but didn’t fire. Hayato stopped paying attention to them, however, once he was able to drop to his knees at Tsuna’s side.

“Tenth,” he gasped out, “Tsuna, _please.”_ He touched Tsuna’s face. It was still warm. His eyes were open and empty. His mouth curved in a soft smile. Hayato curled one arm under Tsuna’s head and the other around his shoulders. There was no heartbeat to check. There was no breath to feel for. The hole in Tsuna’s chest had replaced essential organs with blood and shattered bone and death, death, death.

Hayato held Tsuna and with painful, wretched sobs tearing their way out of his throat, he wept.

 

* * *

 

Takeshi first saw orange.

And then he saw red.

His fingers curled, begging for the hilt of a sword, but _he hadn’t brought it with him._

 _I will never leave my sword behind again,_ Takeshi swore those words like an oath as he tore up dirt with his shoes while crossing the yard towards the humans. He didn’t feel it when his rinkaku ripped out of his back but between one step and the next, there was bright red in the corners of his vision.

There was the human baby, small and too quick and smelling of gunmetal. Takeshi struck at him, but he jumped out of the way. Then the smell of him vanished completely. A few more steps and he was at Tsuna’s corpse. And it was a corpse. Takeshi had seen plenty to know the face of death when he saw it.

And there was the human who had caused Tsuna’s death, still knelt over him, staring down at him, frozen.

 _Good,_ Takeshi thought with a snarl, _Prey should know when to stop moving and die._

This human didn’t stay frozen, though. He brought an arm up and Takeshi’s rinkaku slashed over the sleeve and into the skin beneath. Then he was rolling back and onto his feet and drawing his weapon.

Takeshi bared his teeth, snarling openly. “I will take your heart,” he said, advancing a step, “And feed it to your father.”

“Fuck,” the human said, his voice shaking. “What the fuck.”

There was a scream from behind him, wretched and horrible and climbing into the air. Takeshi and the human both flinched, but the human looked away, towards the source of the sound. Takeshi struck instead.

It was his turn to scream, though in pain, not grief, when cold metal bit into the flesh of his kagune. He no longer faced off against one human, but two. This one he recognized the smell of. Long silver hair was bright against his dark suit and his sword was what had cut the end off of one of Takeshi’s scaled limbs. Takeshi hissed because this human was an _idiot._

“Out of the way,” Takeshi growled. “Move away from him!”

“No,” said the long haired human. “You will have to go through me to get to the boss.”

“Squalo,” the second human said, taller and dark and smelling like Tsuna’s blood. “Fuck, the kid he just… God, he just _shot himself.”_

“What?” the first said, turning his head towards him.

Takeshi took advantage of the distraction and attacked. Again, that sword cut at him, but he was already regenerating from the first hit. Takeshi was well fed this night and he would not lose to a human. He would get his revenge.

“He shot himself!” The second shouted, “He took my gun and fucking- He said he didn’t want to be the fucking Decimo, but I didn’t think that he would do _that.”_

“You’re kidding me!” The long haired one said back. “He killed himself?”

They were distracted. They were such easy prey. Takeshi was going to glut on their flesh. He was -

“Takeshi!”

There was a human grabbing him. A _human trying to stop him._ He snarled, turning to attack, and caught a nose full of gunpowder and cigarettes. He coughed on the reeking stench of it, hardly able to smell the flesh of the human underneath it. There was silver hair almost in his face, green eyes staring up at him, and, there, a lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

Takeshi grabbed his face. He knew, distantly, his grip was too hard. His knuckles were white and Gokudera’s eyes were full of pain. Or had they been full of pain to begin with?

“He’s telling the truth,” Gokudera gasped out. “Tsuna is holding the gun in both hands. Tsuna’s finger is on the trigger.” Gokudera was grabbing him just as tightly but by the shoulders. He shook Takeshi so hard his teeth rattled in his head. “Tsuna _shot_ himself.”

Grey smudged into green as tears filled Takeshi’s eyes. “But...but why,” he gasped out. “But why? He… he had us… We… we were here for him… Why would he…?”

Takeshi sobbed. His knees shook. His rinkaku sagged, trailing across the grass as he sank to the ground with Gokudera. They held onto each other, Takeshi sobbing just as badly as Gokudera was.

With his head on Gokudera’s shoulder, he was able to look past him and see Tsuna’s body.

Blinking away his blurry vision, Takeshi slowly identified the form curled over Tsuna, shaking violently. He couldn’t recognize the voice. The hoarse sobbing was too rough, too unfamiliar. It was the dark hair and the blood stained white shirt that he recognized. The shape of the shoulders curled over Tsuna and the hand that clutched at shredded cloth and flesh.

Seeing Hibari weeping, Takeshi was unable to hold back. He gave himself to his grief, supporting and being supported by Gokudera as his friend did the same thing.

It was a game. It had all been a _game._

But games weren’t supposed to end like this.


	5. Hitmen Don't Like Surprises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy hell guys. Thank you for all your amazing reviews! Seriously, I was f l o o r e d! <3 You're all the best and I hope you enjoy this week's addition!
> 
> Special thanks to Kattenprinsen who is my hero when it comes to naming people who are unnamed. They are amazing and helped me out a lot by naming everyone's otherwise unnamed parentals. Thank you! You're the best!
> 
> There are a couple of flashbacks here (I don't usually write them in which is why I'm givin a heads-up) but I tried to make them hella obvious with the full italics.

From atop the sport equipment shed, Reborn watched the aftermath of the final ring battle descend into total chaos. A petty territory squabble had devolved into a battle over blood which transformed into a revelation of intent and, bizarrely, Iemitsu’s character as a man. He hadn’t thought his intervention was necessary until it had become clear that Tsuna, regardless of the fact that he and his guardians had technically won the matches, was still willing to give up his rightful position as Decimo.

Reborn had not come to Japan and trained Tsuna only to have the boy turn his back on his bloodline and his future position. He had poured a lot of effort into Tsuna to teach him how to fight with fists and flames and his scattered wits instead of that bloodthirsty instinct that was core to a ghoul’s hunting skill. The boy had finally taken to that fighting style, the one that would have let him pass as human in front of future Vongola members, when Xanxus and the Varia had descended upon them.

In fact, he could almost show the fight against Xanxus and, before him, Hibari, as proof that his teaching had sunk in through boy’s skull. Tsuna had kept his ghoul blood at bay until he’d gone and bitten Xanxus. Even then, perhaps if Xanxus’s blood was of a different type, Tsuna might have retained control of himself.

Not that any of it mattered anymore.

Tsuna had taken more of Reborn’s lessons to heart than he had realized. Reborn had laid out the gory and violence filled history of the Vongola and their interaction with ghouls without a third reconsideration. Tsuna had finally showed serious interest in the more intense dealings of the Vongola. Reborn had thought the risk of telling him would be worth the payout in the end.

But now he had to consider what it had meant to Tsuna, as someone who had grown up friendly with ghouls?

He hated to admit it, and never would speak a word of it, would never apologize (why should he when the only one he felt regret towards was dead on the ground in front of him) but he had forgotten that ghouls were human-like, if not exactly human themselves. Namimori ghouls were more human than some people he had known in his line of work. All he had to do was look at ones like that Sasagawa girl. She was considerate, compassionate, diligent in her studies and popular because of her kindness and pretty face. And yet, he had seen her loping down the streets after dark, with her brother at her side and eyes red and black, headed towards the border of Namimori- towards the ghoul hunting grounds.

It was as if Namimori existed primarily to rub him the wrong way. The town was peaceful day and night. Half of the population consisted of ghouls. There were plenty of shops, a functioning police force, even a damn mayor. One could buy packaged human flesh at a butcher, report a robbery to a ghoul policeman or attend a town hall meeting where the laws of the town were meted out by a fifteen year old boy and upheld by the mayor and her staff.

Not that it mattered. None of it mattered now. At least, not to him.

Tsuna was dead. The heir Nono had chosen was dead. The Vongola would rest upon Xanxus’s shoulders. A good thing that he’d grown up strong and broad- the title of Decimo would be a heavy weight to bear.

Looking down at the bloodied corpse, at the young man who held it and wept, at the two nearby who held each other, grieving, at the other young faces, many wet with tears or set in somber determination, Reborn did not consider the time spent in Namimori to be a waste.

Tsuna had learned a lot from him. Tsuna’s friends had become stronger, more independent people. Reborn had enjoyed his time in Namimori, but now…

He tipped his hat to his former student, gaze solemn. Hibari held Tsuna’s face pressed close to his throat, a vulnerable place, but also somewhere he could hide Tsuna’s dead expression, or feel any breath should that hole in his chest be a massive ruse. Yes, Tsuna’s people had learned a lot from these short months that he’d spent interacting with them.

The distant cloud guardian, the one who had knocked over the first domino on that night’s chain of disaster, was as distraught as anyone who had lost a loved one before their very eyes. He certainly had changed from the aloof temperament Reborn had seen him exhibit upon their first meeting.

Reborn wished him the best. Without Tsuna, Hibari certainly would turn his attentions more towards his own family and their connections. In fact, if he had to predict what would transpire, Hibari would pick up Tsuna’s guardians (perhaps all but Mukuro and Chrome, because of his animosity towards the former and the latter’s dedication to the former) and wield them as his own. And why not?

Gokudera had a good head on his shoulders when he wasn’t riddled with his anxiety. Yamamoto was born to be an assassin, whether or not he was a ghoul, Reborn was convinced of this. Sasagawa had been some sort of friend and sparring partner of Hibari before this had transpired. Perhaps he’d simply leave Lambo in the care of Nana but--

Reborn’s thoughts stopped dead in their tracks.

_Nana._

A cold shiver prickled his skin.

He reached up and tipped his hat down, shadowing his face. “I’ll leave this to you, Xanxus.” He muttered, “As the Decimo-to-be, you’ll have to learn how to clean up this kind of mess.” He knew he wasn’t heard but that didn’t matter.

Reborn had to get out of Japan and _fast._

 

-

 

_“Reborn,” Nana had said with a smile, placing his coffee in front of him. He had looked up at her, opening his mouth to greet her back, but she had kept speaking and overrode his words._

_“I know you’re having a lot of fun teaching my son how to handle his fists and his head while you groom him to become the next leader of the Vongola, but please consider this.” Her eyes, half open, were black and red and bore into his._

_Still she smiled, sweet as the cakes she offered him with his coffee from time to time. Cakes that were only big enough for one person. For him._

_“Tsu-kun is a miracle to me. Having him saved my life. If anything were to happen to him… You will need your own miracle to save yours.”_

 

-

 

Very few people had ever threatened him so blatantly as that. Of that few, Sawada Nana was the only housewife to do so, and the only one that he worried about succeeding. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to do him in by herself, but…

Namimori ghouls hunted in packs.

And Reborn knew who Nana considered her pack.

Returning to Timoteo with Tsuna’s blood (figuratively) on his hands was by far the better choice than to return to the Sawada residence and explain to Nana how he had driven her son to suicide while pinned under the weight of an older, adult, _human,_ enemy.

Without a word, Reborn bound off the shed. Now was the time to go if he wanted to make it back to Italy in one piece.

 

* * *

 

Reborn took great pride in being hard to surprise. Because of his size and  his skill and his, ah, occupation, he got the drop on people time and time again. This amused him to no end and ultimately lead to him doing more and more outlandish things to get that shock out of people. He had enjoyed that element of his relationship, such as it was, between Tsunayoshi and himself.

He showed up out of the blue, Tsuna would panic and shout. He attacked spontaneously,Tsuna would flail in an attempt to dodge. Add in Gokudera’s easily triggered hysterics and the incredulousness of his surrounding friends and teaching-tormenting Tsuna had felt more of a pastime than a job. Really, his whole time in Namimori had been entertaining.

Except for the whole, not realizing his student and his student’s mother were ghouls part.

...Oh, and perhaps that all of his Namimori born guardians turned out to be ghouls too.

...And the ghoul-parent-teacher conference he had to participate in when he started to gather the guardians…

His work in Namimori had almost been a vacation, would have been one really, if not for those parts.

Reborn hadn’t become the best hitman in the world by luck. He had been born naturally difficult to surprise and had cultivated that until there came a point where he was so unfazed by things going on that he attained a level of pseudo-omniscience. It made tutoring young up and coming mafioso brats highly entertaining.

Nothing any student did could surprise him. Everything he did was surprising to them.

And then Reborn had gone to Namimori.

“Your coffee sir.” The airline attendant spoke smoothly, bending over to place the coffee cup on his tray. Reborn nodded to the woman and then, after a moment’s hesitation, asked for two sugars.

He got them and slowly stirred them into the coffee, letting them dissolve completely. The coffee was too sweet when he drank it, but, since it was all he was having, it was better this way. People were already staring at the infant in a suit alone in an airplane. He didn’t need them staring because all he was having was plain black coffee too.

He had to remember, couldn’t forget, that he wasn’t in Namimori anymore.

He had to remember, couldn’t forget, all the ghoul tells that he had learned from living in that ghoul-infested town.

The coffee was hardly necessary to keep himself alert. He was still jittery from what he had left behind. Nana’s smiling face hovered just behind his eyelids, bent over with her hair falling across her features and those dark, black eyes staring down at him in utter sincerity. He had seen her, day in and day out, for months and only twice had he seen a ghoul’s eyes looking back at him in that smiling face.

 

-

 

_“Thank you for coming, Reborn-san. It is a pleasure to meet the Greatest Hitman in the World, face to face.” Hibari Chikai looked every inch the gentle wife. Her dark hair was swept out of her face with a single golden hairpin and her long sleeves held back with slender, pale fingers. She bowed as she welcomed him into the modern home built in a traditional style. “The others are here already.”_

_Yes. She was every inch the gentle housewife. Except for her ghoulish red and black eyes that looked right at him unflinchingly._

_“Hibari-san,” he said, “Thank you for your hospitality.”  He followed her through quiet halls to an elegant dining room that would have been suitable in any noble’s castle. ‘The others’ were all adults he had met before: Sawada Nana, Yamamoto Tsuyoshi, Sasagawa Atsuko and Daichi, and now Hibari Chikai. She motioned him to his single seat on one of the sides of the table before sitting down opposite him._

_“Coffee, Reborn-san?”_

_“Please,” he said._

_She had poured him a cup from the kettle, steam rising from the mug as she did. The others already had their own cups, and either held them or sipped from them as they waited._

_Under the lip of his fedora, Reborn quickly looked over their faces. He didn’t see an ounce of trepidation in one of them. Only mild interest or the slight frown of worry. They were, after all, there to talk about their children joining the mafia._

_Not that any of them were supposed to know that their children were doing such a thing. He would have to up the training until they were all run so ragged they couldn’t spread secrets like this around. Although, he noted with a glance to Hibari Chikai, it was likely the parents had found out from an alternative source._

_Chikai set down her own cup and smiled, showing more teeth than pleasantries. “Let us get right to the heart of the matter. Reborn-san, why should we allow you to take our children and put them in your bloodthirsty Italian mafia? Tell me, what makes the Vongola family the place where my son and his pack will thrive?”_

_She watched him, almost unblinkingly, with those black and red eyes._

_They all did, some of them smiling, some of them serious, all of them with ghoulish eyes and focused attention._

_Reborn sipped from his mug. Timoteo should have known better than to call in a favor to get Reborn to train Tsuna to be the Decimo- It would only put Timoteo deeper into Reborn’s debt. Ah. Well. The old man had deep pockets and the Vongola would always be good for repayment._

_With a nod, Reborn settled in for a long discussion._

 

-

 

Reborn pinched the bridge of his nose and then, drawing his hand away, blinked hard. He heard someone shuffle and cough behind him and tense up instinctively.

He unclenched his hand from around the cup the attendant had given him and forced himself to relax. Not even an hour had passed by the time he was out of Namimori and on a plane. Sure, it wasn’t a straight shot home, but it was the first leg and it should have gotten him out of immediate danger.

As threatening as Nana had been, in her bright, motherly sort of way, it was the Hibari family that worried Reborn. He had left as quickly as possible, giving them as little time as he could to mobilize against him while still in the country. He would have to make a few stops along the way, careful to stay ahead of any pursuers, but he could do it. The long hours would give him plenty of time to figure out how the hell to break the Ring Battle results to Timoteo and Iemitsu.

(He almost hoped that someone else got to them first. He wasn’t sure how to safely drop the ‘your son is half ghoul’ on Iemitsu and ‘your heir was almost a ghoul’ to Timoteo. Hell, he should have told them when he had found out himself but he hadn’t. He had thought- a half ghoul could fake it well enough… And ghoul guardians? Well- That could be worked around, surely.)

Reborn settled back in his chair, sipping again. He glanced out the window at the dark night sky. There was nothing to be seen but ocean and wisps of clouds. With the sun at his back and the jet taking him hundreds of miles across the world, it was going to be a long, long night for him.

 

* * *

 

The afternoon sun warmed the small sitting room that Reborn waited in. He drowsed slightly, jet lagged from his cross country flight from Namimori to Italy. Leon was asleep on his brim, weighing the hat down to obscure his face.

He blinked to consciousness as the door swung open. Ganauche led the way into the room, with Timoteo behind him and Visconti to follow up. That wasn’t the end of the guests, though, as Iemitsu walked in, accompanied by Lal Mirch and another one of his subordinates. Not the young boy but the woman. It took Reborn’s fairly frayed mind to pull her name out of- that’s right Oregano.

Reborn sat on the arm of the couch that was most likely to not put him to sleep and waited as everyone filed in, found somewhere to settle and a quiet servant came in with refreshments. He wasn’t surprised in the least when a cup of coffee was pressed into his hand by Lal. She gave him a Look with an arched brow. “Must be serious,” she said, the first to address him directly, “For you to be here yourself, Reborn. Take this. You look like shit.”

“Sugar,” he muttered and gestured with one hand. “Just a cube.”

“You haven’t even tasted it,” Lal said with a smirk, “You sure you want to add sugar?” But her gaze was worried and she was grabbing the bowl for him. Or rather, Oregano handed it to her and she to Reborn. He dropped in a cube and stirred it.

“Hm?” He said thoughtfully, sipping the coffee. Lowering it from his mouth, he stared at it. “What is this?”

“Coffee,” Lal said slowly. “You know. Made from ground coffee beans? Sorry we couldn’t fix up an expre-”

He cut her off with a snappish, “I know it’s coffee but damn, Lal. This is shitty coffee.” He sipped it again and grimaced. At Lal’s silence, he glanced up at her. “What?”

She stood back from him, arms folded over her chest. “You sure you want to do this report now? You sound like you haven’t slept in days.”

He paused in his immediate refute to instead ask, “What day is it?”

“The twenty sixth.” The Cloud battle had been on the twenty fourth and, with all his back and forth to keep his trail clear of hitmen, it _had_ taken longer for him to get back.

“Ah.” He nodded. Reborn put his mug down, no longer needing it. “Then you would be right. But that’s the kind of thing that happens when, well, the shit hits the fan.” He was glad they were in an interior room, that meant there were no windows for him to keep glancing out of in ghoul-inspired paranoia.

Iemitsu clearly couldn’t contain himself. He lurched to the edge of his own seat, his fist thumping against his knee, “Reborn, tell us what happened during the ring battles. We haven’t heard anything since the rain match. How did the mist one go? How bad was the damage done by the Mosca? What about Tsuna? What did Xanxus do when he got the rings?”

Ganauche made a rude noise, not moving from where he leaned against the side of the chair Timoteo sat in. “Whatever he is fighting for isn’t enough to counterbalance the weight of the Vongola name. It sure sounds like he put on a good fight, but the man has the Varia to take care of-”

Reborn sighed. He wanted coffee. Good coffee, the kind that Nana made in the morning. Perfectly roasted beans, ground fresh that morning and the boiling water at just the right temperature for the right amount of time… He looked forlornly at the mug he’d set down and said with true regret, “I’m never going to be able to have that coffee again. How am I going to live without it?”

“Reborn,” Timoteo’s elderly voice was concerned but strained underneath that. “Please. We haven’t heard any word since the twenty second. What happened? Why…Why are you here?”

Reborn glanced up at him. A dozen things waited to be said on the tip of his tongue- ranging from the morbid to the absurd. He landed on blunt and spartan. “The mist and cloud ring battles were both won in Sawada Tsunayoshi’s favor. However, there was a dispute after the cloud battle between Tsunayoshi and his Cloud. Xanxus intervened, Tsunayoshi fought with him and, after giving up his half of the sky ring, killed himself.”

Had he dropped a pin on the coffee table, he would have heard it clatter, spin in place and come to a slow, rolling stop with perfect clarity. As it was, he heard only lungs working, slowly and some with stuttering surprise as he looked straight at Timoteo.

Iemitsu exploded from his seat, reaching for Reborn. “What do you mean _he_ killed himself!? You can’t mean- There’s no way that- Tsuna would never.”

Idiot. _Idiot._ Iemitsu was the highest class of idiot Reborn could even fathom. It felt like cracking stone as he turned his head away from Timoteo to look at the giant, fucking moron in the room. “Your son.” He spoke flat and cold. “Is dead. He put a hole the size of a melon in his chest. No heart. No lungs. Half his ribs gone. Diaphragm. Liver. Probably a good chunk of his stomach. Not that the leaking acid would have damaged anything. He was dead before anyone could do anything.”

Again, that aching silence.

Iemitsu stared at him, wide eyed, mouth hanging open. He was shaking. Oregano, at his side, reached out and put her hand on his arm but he didn’t seem to even notice it.

“You’re certain?” Timoteo whispered, “Absolutely?”

“Xanxus saw him die.” Reborn said, adding the other man as a witness without a second thought. “And it was no duplicate body. He spoke right until the last moment. I got close, but was chased away by…” he hesitated. _His maddened Rain guardian ghoul._ Reborn just couldn’t let the words out of his mouth.

In this room, he was the only one who knew about the ghouls in Namimori, and the half ghoul that had been Tsuna.

If other humans discovered half breeds were possible- If other _ghouls_ discovered half-breeds were possible-

Reborn shuddered at the very idea of it.

“So Xanxus is the Decimo,” Visconti said firmly, as though he had never even contemplated Tsunayoshi for the position seriously. He nodded once.

“How can you just-” Iemitsu snarled, “Who gives a _fuck_ about Xanxus? My son-”

“Wouldn’t have ever fought against him if it wasn’t for _you,”_ Ganauche murmured.

“Only because none of you would press Xanxus into the position! You turned to my son instead, my fourteen year old son! And now he’s fucking dead!”

Reborn watched Timoteo’s face as the lines in it deepened and his gaze flicked away in guilt or shame or something else. He was exhausted. It was hard to read even his friend’s face. He needed sleep. Hours and hours and hours of it in a safe place.

As much as he wished it was, the Vongola was not a safe place to sleep. Reborn got to his feet. Lal took a step towards him and he shot  her a glare. He did not need any help _standing._ He was only exhausted, not fucking traumatized. She glared back at him and the put up her hands as if to say _“Fine. Have it your way.”_

“One more thing,” Reborn said, looking back to Timoteo. Iemitsu was fuming, torn between his rage and his grief and it had, for now, rendered him speechless. Good. “As far as Tsunayoshi’s former guardians and” _packmates_ “friends are concerned, I do not think the Vongola will interest them much anymore.”

Timoteo’s frown deepened. “They know about their flames, Reborn. They can’t simply be left alone to use them however they see fit or to teach them to other civilians.” He shifted uneasily in his chair and Reborn saw the flash of the cold hearted mafia don that had bloodied the streets of Italy in the prime days of Vongola Nono. “You did not take care of them before you left?”

A slight head shake, “I left as soon as Tsunayoshi died.” He could remember Yamamoto’s eyes, burning red and deep black, filled with rage and grief and tears and the want of blood and vengeance burning in his face. Yamamoto who had looked at him not as assassin to assassin, but ghoul to their prey. That hatred would not dissipate quickly, not when the Tsuna’s Rain felt it so keenly.

That hatred would bleed over to Tsuna’s Cloud. Hibari’s bloodlust would be as violent and  as pervasive as Nana’s, Reborn knew that deep in his bones. And both of them knew of his affiliation with the Vongola… “I need to go,” he said, interrupting something Timoteo was saying to Iemitsu.

“What?” Lal leaned in, “You just got here. And you’re about ready to collapse. Reborn, you need to rest before you go anywhere.”

“Tch,” he frowned back at her, “I’d like to survive long enough to break this stupid curse, Lal. Getting hunted by the Hibari’s isn’t exactly going to prolong my life any.”

Iemitsu, who perhaps knew the names of Tsuna’s guardians as well as Reborn did, snapped to attention, “What do you mean? Why would Hibari be after you? You said that- Tsuna-” He stopped, physically unable to get out the words from the look of it.

“I am the one who tutored the boy,” Reborn said, not looking to Iemitsu, but to Timoteo. His old friend was, after all, the one who had asked Reborn to go to Namimori for Tsuna. “I told him he was to be a mafia boss, without exception. I pressured him to fight, to win, to protect his friends, to become the Decimo.” He hesitated a moment, his fist tightening against his side.

“Nana entrusted his life to me. She will blame me. She will not allow me to get away with it. And she is friends with Hibari Chikai. It’s only a matter of time before my name is at the top of their wanted list.” The words came out sour and sharp like the shards of a broken bottle that had been filled with lemon juice.

“Hibari Chikai,” Oregano breathed out the name, “But isn’t that.” She sat up straight, turning towards Iemitsu, “Your wife has contacts with _the_ Hibari family? They are a member of the Triads, Iemitsu, one of the largest families that spans several countries- Iemitsu! Why didn’t you say anything!?”

“I didn’t-” the useless man began.

Reborn had had enough. He was exhausted. He was being hunted. He had fucked up. All he had been trying to do was a favor for a friend and it had blown up in his goddamn face. “Because he’s the most idiotic human man on the face of the earth,” Reborn said, fingers twitching. Leon was already climbing down to his arm. “I’d kill you myself right now and fuck who has rights to your body! From what I heard Xanxus saying, I don’t doubt that you’ve got a fat little price on your own damn head, idiot Iemitsu. They’re going to catch you and drag you back to your pretty little wife, I bet, only so she can turn you over to Xanxus to kill.”

They were staring at him, eyes wide, but Reborn _didn’t care anymore._ None of them knew. None of them knew _anything._ “She might have loved you, Iemitsu, but to Nana? Tsuna was a miracle. Tsuna was her reason for living, for being human. Do you know what happens when you take away a ghoul’s reason to pretend to be human?”

“A ghoul’s…” whispered Oregano, “reason?” She was the only one who spoke. The rest of them looked at him in silent shock. Iemitsu was so pale that he looked drained of his blood.

“What are you talking about Reborn,” Lal asked, low and intent, coming close. “Get ahold of yourself.”

Reborn turned away from them sharply. He tipped his hat down over his face. Leon curled his tail between his fingers, ever ready to defend. “Go back to Namimori,” he said to Iemitsu. He hardly recognized his own voice, “Go there and mourn your son with your wife. Go back and see that town without your fucking rose colored glasses, Iemitsu. Go back to Namimori and count the graveyards.”

With that, he was done. His message delivered, his body shaking from the emotional outburst, Reborn slipped out of the room without another word. He had just barely hit the hallway when he heard shouting erupt in the room behind him.

He didn’t have the energy to care. All he could do now was leave the Vongola manor and get to one of his safehouses. One of his _real_ safehouses, where no one but him knew the location of. Then he would be safe. Then he could sleep.

 

* * *

 

The smell of coffee, familiar and tantalizing, filled the air of Reborn’s underground hideaway. It was a specially crafted bunker, one that was sized to him as an Arcobaleno. Sure, it meant that he wouldn’t be able to use it when the curse was broken, but that was a good thing.

It meant that the only people could even comfortably enter the bunker and he knew the names and appearances of all six of those people.

He closed the door, wincing slightly as it thunked heavily and locked automatically behind himself. There was a long, silent pause from deeper inside his safehouse, like someone was listening.

With his nerves strung like Belphegor’s knives on wires, Reborn walked silently past the entranceway and into the kitchen. Sitting at his table, sipping from one of his mugs, sat Fon.

Across the table was a second mug. He walked over, took his seat, and pulled it close. Coffee. Just coffee. He glanced up at Fon. The Storm Arcobaleno set down his mug and Reborn saw again, coffee. Just coffee.

He expected tea. He had hoped it was tea.

Reborn looked back at his own drink. He loved coffee. He really, really did.

But if this kept up it was going to give him a heart attack without him ever needing to take another sip.

Taking the mug, testing it for poison subtly, finding nothing but coffee in it (no milk, no sugar, nothing else) Reborn sipped. It was good. It was really good, actually. In fact it reminded him of-

 

-

 

_“Do you like that blend, Reborn?” Nana asked as she poured herself and Tsuna a cup of the same coffee. “It was a gift from my friend, Chika. She gets this blend from her brother in China. He sends it quite often, since he can’t visit her as much as she’d like.”_

_“It’s good, Mama,” Reborn replied._

_Tsuna sipped his own, “I really like it too, but Hibari hates it. He doesn’t even like the smell of it.”_

_“Oh?” Nana asked, “I thought you two liked the same flavors!”_

_“Yeah,” Tsuna said, “But he says it reminds him of someone he’d rather not be reminded of.” He shrugged a shoulder, “So I figured who it is deserves it, at least as far as Hibari’s concerned.”_

 

-

 

“Welcome home,” Fon said with a little smile.

“Thank you,” Reborn said stiffly. Last he had heard, Fon was in China. What was he doing here? How had he found this place? “It’s good to see you. It has been quite a while.”

“Yes. But this is an important matter.” Fon turned his mug back and forth in his hand. The ceramic made a soft scratching noise on the wood. Reborn tried not to think about that.

“Oh?”

“I wanted to thank you in person.”

“Really,” Reborn fought the urge to drink more of that delicious coffee. Really, the Vongola had nothing on the refined taste of, well, ghouls. He lost the fight and drank another gulp. “I don’t recall doing anything worthy of your gratitude lately.”

Fon’s smile grew just a little. “I have not heard from my nephew since his father… passed on.” He lifted his mug. There was a ring of condensation underneath it. Reborn tried to ignore that too. He was certain Fon was doing it on purpose, though it was impossible to tell under that smooth facade of his. “Yet, because of you, I not only got to speak to him but he reached out to me. Of course, it was a phone call, but surely you understand how important that first step is. I’m certain we’ll be sitting around the table exchanging Hunting stories and enjoying Mother’s premium blend together soon.”

“...congratulations on your family reunion,” Reborn heard himself say dryly. Fon tilted his head slightly and he tensed, entirely too uneasy in his own supposedly safe kitchen. “I’m happy to have helped.”

“Are you really?” Fon asked, “I know your sadistic tendencies tend to make your students curse at the sight of you, Reborn, but I didn’t think that pleasure extended to seeing them commit suicide.” At once, his genial smile turned brittle as blown glass. “But then who am I to judge? Death took my nephew’s affection from me and death has brought it back again.”

Reborn felt Leon climbing down the back of his head, where Fon couldn’t see, each movement as slow as crystallized honey. Was he fast enough to give himself cover fire as he escaped the bunker? Because, at his current exhausted state, he absolutely did not have the energy to fight Fon toe-to-toe. “I didn’t even know you had family,” Reborn said, stalling for time as Leon moved foot over foot.

“I have a widowed sister,” Fon said, “And her fifteen year old son is my nephew.” He set his mug down with a sharp _clink_ on the wood. “They live in a small town in Japan.”

The coffee in his throat became hard as ice. Reborn choked it down painfully, blinking dampness from his eyes. He didn’t even have to ask. He knew. _Namimori._ And all at once, that knowledge gave him someone to compare Fon to that he hadn’t thought of before.

Side by side, Fon and Hibari Kyoya could have passed as brothers, at the very least. Father and son, even, if one had no idea about the Arcobaleno curse. And Fon’s sister being Kyoya’s mother-

_Hibari Chikai._

The connections leapt into place, hung for a frozen moment as Reborn struggled to keep from coughing and catch his breath, and then slammed into place. He shuddered from crown to sole. He put his mug down, though it clattered against the table from his shaking hand. He forced himself to speak, blanked on something meaningful and instead slipped into inane pleasantries instead. “How is your nephew doing?”

“Not well,” Fon admitted, his smile sliding away for the first time. His gaze was downcast, his eyelids so low that his eyes looked shut. “He had something priceless taken from him and then the one responsible for it left on such short notice that he had to contact me to met out the correct punishment.”

Reborn’s hands clenched around his own cup. He could probably throw that, distract Fon enough to get his gun, and then it would be a straight shot from the chair he was into the front door. Getting that door open would be the worst part. It was locked now, and heavy from its reinforcement. He’d lose precious time to that.

If he survived this, Reborn was going to add escape hatches to his secret hide out.

“And what gives you right to do that?”

Fon’s eyes flashed up and bore right into Reborn. Even though he was expecting them to be red and black and burning, Reborn still flinched. It was still a shock, still a surprise to know that there was a ghoul in the Arcobaleno.

“Why,” Fon said with a not-smile that bared his teeth, “I’m the strongest ghoul in the Arcobaleno. I have the body rights to all the humans in our group.”

Scratch that. There were  _at least two ghouls_ in the Arcobaleno. Fuck.

Reborn really, _really_ hated being surprised.

It never ended well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT TIME: we find out what happened after Reborn left Namimori! whoop!


	6. The Perfect Illusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “...There are some things that really are useful to know beforehand, Squalo,” Xanxus muttered. “This is one of them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Squalo, Hayato and (to an extent) Takeshi, are all triggered and panic extensively in this chapter. Please be cautious as you read, my lovelies~

Ryouhei knew that he wasn’t the brightest, despite having the flames of the sun. He knew that he wasn’t the most mature and didn’t always have the best ideas. He knew that sometimes he got way too excited about things and didn’t take things seriously enough. Still, he tried to be there for people when they needed him and he did his best. 

That was the important thing, doing your best. Extreme effort. Extreme results. 

_ Do your best, Ryou-kun. Make your Papa proud!  _

That was why, even as tears ran down his face and his hands shook with the effort, he got up from where he knelt by Kyoya’s blood in the grass and walked over to where the others were around Tsuna. Kyoya had gone from weeping loudly to silent, shaking tears. He clutched Tsuna with his one good arm, his wounded one hanging limp from its barely healed shoulder. Gokudera was the only thing keeping Yamamoto under control, clinging to his friend and sobbing against him while Yamamoto rocked mindlessly back and forth. 

Distantly, as he stood next to Kyoya, he was glad that Lambo wasn’t there. The little kid didn’t need to see something like… this.

Cool fingers curled around his and Ryouhei looked down into Chrome’s one visible eye. She had tears on her cheeks too, “We have to hurry,” she whispered. “Mukuro can save him, but we have to hurry.”

“You can?” Ryouhei gripped her hand tightly, “You really can?” 

She nodded. “But we have to hurry. It’s already been several minutes without oxygen getting to his brain.”

Ryouhei did not need to be told twice. “What do you need me to do?”

“Hibari-san must let the boss go.”

It was easier said than done, but Ryouhei would do it. He let go of her hand and went to his friend. Crouching down beside Kyoya, he said, “Kyoya, Chrome says that she can bring him back-”

Kyoya’s head jerked up. His face was mottled red from his crying. His eyes red rimmed and swollen, but human in appearance. “Chrome?” he asked, his gaze jerking away from Ryouhei to the girl. He hissed instantly, coiling  his arm tighter around Tsuna. “That isn’t Chrome.”

Ryouhei glances back to where Chrome was only to find the man from the Mist ring battle there again. Rokudo Mukuro smiled at them both, “I can save him, but you must trust me with his body.” He held out his hands, “Hand him over, Hibari.”

Kyoya, shaking, resisted this. His lips were pulled back in a snarl, clearly untrusting and resentful towards Mukuro. Ryouhei swallowed the shout he wanted to give-  _ why can’t you just accept other’s help for once, Kyoya!-  _ and put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. He shook Kyoya, demanding his attention, “You have to hurry. There isn’t much time until his brain is too damaged. Kyoya, please. Give him Tsuna.”

“I don’t trust him,” Kyoya growled. “He wants to possess Tsunayoshi’s body.”

“Do you trust me?” Ryouhei asked.

Kyoya blinked, his angry expression faltered. “I… Of course I do.”

“Then give Tsuna to me,” Ryouhei said, “I will stay at his side the whole time. Mukuro won’t be able to do anything with me here.” 

There was a snort, muffled, as though Mukuro doubted that very much, but he didn’t actually say anything. Kyoya could ignore a snort, but not actual words. 

“I’ll take care of him,” Ryouhei whispered, “You need to deal with those humans over there,” he nodded his head towards the Varia leader. “C’mon, division of labor, Kyoya. Let the healers heal and the fighters fight.”

“If he fails…” Kyoya begins. 

“Yes, yes, you’ll bite us all to death,” Mukuro waves a dismissive hand. “Very amusing, but not necessary. You’ve already taken quite a chunk out of little Chrome’s arm. I’m not pleased about that already, but it was her choice.”

Kyoya carefully handed Tsuna over to Ryouhei and then stood up. He spun on his heel to face Mukuro and snarled, “If you possess him, you will regret it with every inch of your being.” 

Mukuro rolls his eyes at him but waits patiently as Kyoya stalks over to address the situation with the Varia leader. When he can, he sinks down to his knees beside Ryouhei. “You just keep holding him there, Muscles, and let me get to business, hm?” 

Ryouhei nods. He turns Tsuna in his arm so he lays flat. The hole in his chest seeps and loose organs slip into Ryouhei’s lap but he ignores that. Harder to ignore is the metal-sweet smell of his blood. Ryouhei shivers and turns his head, breathing carefully through his nose. 

Mukuro frowns as he settles down. He glances up as a shadow passes over them and then rolls his eyes at their audience. Lussuria and Belphegor stand off to the side, watching curiously. Mukuro reaches into Tsuna’s chest, muttering to himself, “Diaphragm is fucked. Heart’s half gone. Lungs are just scraps… And what the hell is this?”

Ryouhei looked down at the organ that Mukuro poked at. “Oh. That’s the kagune.”

“A what?” Mukuro blinked. He poked at it some more. The bright red organ crumbled a little at his touch, “How important is it?”

“Uh,” Ryouhei answered, “Really important.”

“Don’t you know anything?” Belphegor suddenly said, stepping up. He bent over, hands braced on his knees, grinning, “That’s the source of a ghoul’s weapons. That’s why they must eat people- to feed that organ. Little Sawada won’t be a proper ghoul without it.” 

Mukuro cursed under his breath, “Fuck. Okay. So I’m definitely replicating that.” He muttered some more and then the indigo of his mist flame began to coil into being. He manipulated the flame down in the hole of Tsuna’s chest, starting with heart and lungs, “Muscles, what can you tell me about Tsuna’s kagune thing? I don’t want to form it like another human organ.”

“Ah, not much, sorry,” Ryouhei admitted, “My own is of a different type and I never really studied the others…”

“Sawada is a rinkaku type, isn’t he?” Lussuria asked. Ryouhei nodded to that, knowing that was true. 

“Think of it like this, Pineapple head,” Belphegor said, holding out his hands. He gestured as he spoke, “Smooth and rippling like water, but strong, linked together like scales. It should knit together well if you give it enough suggestion. Rinkaku is regenerative- the best healer of all types.” 

“...huh,” Mukuro spared a moment to give Belphegor a glare before focusing on Tsuna’s chest again.

“You’re creating false organs to give time for his real ones to regenerate?” Lussuria asked, stepping up around to the other side, “Incredible. Will it really work?”

“It works on humans,” Mukuro said confidently. “Anything else about that ghoul organ you want to add?”

“Don’t harden it too much,” Belphegor said, “Remember, it’s like a bag of liquid. That’s really the best description for it. Imagine it like a water balloon full of blood. Except the rubber is about a quarter inch thick and instead of just straight water inside it’s a supersaturated sponge!” He licked his lips, his hands gripping an invisible kagune organ in the air. “A healthy one is bright red and fit to burst! If you bite into one like that, the blood goes everywhere and it can be such a waste of effort.”

Slowly, Ryouhei lifted his gaze from Mukuro’s work on Tsuna’s chest to Belphegor. He exhaled sharply, clearing his nose, and then sniffed the air. Belphegor had a… strange scent. There was metal and blood on him- bright metal, old blood. Human blood and ghoul blood.

Which...wasn’t right. 

Ryouhei frowned at Belphegor and asked, before he could stop to think about it. “What are you?”

Belphegor grinned. He straightened up and for a moment, just a flash, his hair was away from his eyes and Ryouhei saw the blackness indicative of a ghoul. Then the golden locks were back into place, obscuring his eyes as he beamed, “Why, I’m a prince! Prince Belphegor the Ghoul Eater.” 

Mukuro reacted before Ryouhei did. Thick chains snapped out of the ground, swung around Belphegor and held him tightly in place. “You,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, “Are going over  _ there.  _ You will not be coming near Tsunayoshi until he is healed again.”

Even with chains holding his arms to his sides and coiled around his throat and his legs, Belphegor laughed, “If you say so! I suppose the Prince is bored with you two anyway. The clash of guardians seems much more interesting!” Mukuro narrowed his eyes at him but didn’t otherwise move in order to make the chains drag Belphegor away. Lussuria watched mildly as that happened, arms folded over his chest. As Mukuro dumped Belphegor into the middle of Kyoya’s situation, Lussuria looked down at Tsuna and gave a low, admiring whistle.

“Your skill is quite impressive. Sawada is lucky to have such a gifted Mist as his guardian… though I have a feeling the position of Decimo might end up being Xanxus’s after all.” 

“That’s fine,” Mukuro said quietly, intent on his work. Ryouhei wasn’t even quite sure he knew that he was talking to someone. “I never wanted him to be Decimo anyway.”

Ryouhei smiled a little helplessly. “Yeah,” he agreed, “Neither did I. I don’t think any of us did.” His voice trailed off as he watched muscle knit itself into being over smooth, unbroken ribs. Skin followed that, pale and without a single blemish. 

Mukuro let out a slow breath, closed his eyes and said, “Now the difficult part…” 

Strangely, Ryouhei found himself watching the young man across from him instead of the not-so-lifeless body in his arms. His expression was focused, intent. His brows were furrowed and his lips pressed into a thin line. As he leaned forward, his hair fell in his face, obscuring it somewhat. Ryouhei ducked his head unconsciously, since he couldn’t move his hands, so that he could keep a clear view of Mukuro’s face. 

Minutes passed, long and quiet, where indigo flame seeped into Tsuna’s exposed chest and the only loud sound was the arguing of the others, namely Gokudera and Squalo. 

As he worked, Mukuro’s head bent lower and lower, his lips turning down in concentration. Instinctively, Ryouhei leaned forward. He shifted his legs, his arms, holding Tsuna balanced across his forearms and thighs and offered up his shoulder. Mukuro’s forehead thumped lightly on his shoulder. 

Jerking back, Mukuro blinked up at Ryouhei. Sweat beaded at his temples and he offered up a wry smirk, “Look at you… You’ve kept pretty calm during all of this, Muscles.” He lifted a hand, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Giant robots filled with bodies. Limbs being shot off. Friends committing suicide. Holes in chests. Everyone’s weeping, wailing and gnashing their teeth. And only a few tears on your part. I’m impressed.”

Ryouhei pulled his eyes up from Mukuro’s lips, quirked in that dry amusement, and up to his mismatched eyes. He flushed at the compliment. “Extreme circumstances require extreme strength,” he said in all seriousness. Looking down at Tsuna, looking like he was asleep if not for the stillness of his chest, he added, “I was chosen as his sun. And maybe I can’t destroy what has harmed Tsuna, but I can be steady and strong and protect all members of the family with everything I have.”

Looking back up, Ryouhei met Mukuro’s gaze with confidence. “That includes you, Mukuro.” 

Mukuro blinked at him, once, his smile fading for a moment. Then he reached out a hand, resting it on the side of Ryouhei’s neck. “Good,” he said, “Because there’s something that I need from you to finish my work here with Tsunayoshi.”

“Whatever you need,” Ryouhei said without hesitation. “Just tell me what to do.”

Mukuro smiled.

 

* * *

 

It had been years since the last time that Xanxus needed to press his hand to the center of Squalo’s back to keep him calm in the middle of, well, not exactly a fight but a dangerous situation. Right now they stood nearly chest to back, Squalo standing guard between him and the grieving ghouls. The edge of his sword flashed in the lights around the field. His breath heaved in his chest and it shuddered under Xanxus’s palm.

“We never should have fucking come here,” Squalo hissed out of the corner of his mouth. “Those twenty weren’t worth this, Xanxus.” 

“Those twenty swore allegiance to me,” Xanxus muttered back, “They fought under my command. Some of them even saved our lives and we did nothing for them.”

“And now we’re condemned to death in this shitty ghoul infested town!” Squalo pressed back against Xanxus’s hand. “Nothing is worth being a ghoul’s meal. It’s the worst- Fuck- We’ll be lucky if they just kill us first- Who knows what else kind of sport they could-” 

“Squalo,” Xanxus cut him off. “You said it yourself. These are not Italian ghouls. They have different rules. I doubt they have a fucking feeding pit to toss humans into. That isn’t going to happen to us.”

Squalo whispered something under his breath  _ (“Allegra, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let you go alone.”)  _ and Xanxus politely ignored it. He gave Squalo a moment to himself before tapping with his fingers. Instantly, his friend went rigid. One of the ghouls, the former cloud guardian, approached them with a stilted, slow step. “Keep calm,” Xanxus muttered, “He’s hurt so he’ll be wary already. Let me do the talking. You just stand there and look pretty.”

Hibari-   _ Sawada smiling, speaking softly. “Make sure Hibari gets a bite of me.”  _ \- comes to a stop several feet away. His left arm is limp at his side and in his right hand is his tonfa. This he lifts up, pointing it to Squalo. “Where did the baby go?”

“What?” Squalo hissed. 

Xanxus knocked a knuckle against Squalo’s spine to shut him up. “By baby, do you mean Reborn?” he asked to clarify. “Because if you’re looking for him, he fucked off a while ago.”

Hibari considered this in silence. Slowly, his head tilted to the side, his gaze shifting past them, focusing on the distant ground beyond them. Xanxus resisted the urge to turn and look. He didn’t feel anyone there so either it was a tactic, or, well, the kid had hit his head pretty hard on the ground when he fell before.

 

_ Didn’t fall. He was pushed. Sawada tackled him to the ground so I couldn’t blow his damn head off. _

_ Sawada’s gaze, burning, his lips pulled in a snarl. “Oh please. You don’t care about whether I live or die.” _

 

Xanxus’s fingers itched for his gun, but he only had one on him now. The other was with Sawada’s body. One quick glance told him that that strange Mist guardian- what had they called him, Mukuro?- and the sun guardian were by Sawada’s corpse now. Lussuria and Bel were with them. He could see them talking. He could only hope Lussuria would be able to negate any agitation that Bel would cause.

Blinking, the ghoul in front of them turned away from his stare into nothingness to look at the two teens behind him. They were calmer now. Not completely calm, of course. Their shoulders still heaved but the loud sobbing had been replaced by something broken and soft. They rubbed at their faces, attempting to get themselves under control. 

For the first time, Xanxus wondered if any of Sawada’s guardians had harmonized with him. He felt a sickening twist in his belly as he remembered Squalo’s words, describing how it had felt when Xanxus had nearly died several years ago.

 

_ “It was like losing Allegra all over again. Everything that I thought I knew was wrong. Everything I thought I had was being torn out of my hands.” Hands, opening and shutting as he spoke, one metal, one flesh, both shaking.  _

_ “I couldn’t feel safe anywhere. I couldn’t calm down. I couldn’t think beyond the moment I existed in and that moment was full of terror and pain and nothing else.” Eyes staring at the wall, as blank and as dead as the stone. _

_ “It was like… It was like someone had taken out my heart of my chest. It still beat. It still worked. I was still alive, but I was so cold. So cold and lost. Missing something….I can’t do that again. I can’t. Can’t. I won’t. I’d rather die first.” Conviction in his tone, in every line of his body, a promise made with absolute sincerity, the fullness of his will.  _

_ Squalo would die to prevent Xanxus from doing the same- if only out of the selfish desire to not lose his harmonized sky. _

 

“Call Mama,” the ghoul said to the teens. Their storm- Smoking Bomb, wasn’t it? -jerked upright.

“Mama?” He repeated.

Hibari nodded. “Find out if Reborn went to her. He is as responsible as the monkey king but he is missing. He cannot be bitten to death if he is not here to get disciplined.” His lip pulled in a snarl and he turned back to face Xanxus. “You,” he pointed to Squalo, “If you do not cease to crowd, you will be bitten to death along with that one.”

“Oh please,” Squalo snarled, “Go ahead and fucking try it. I’ll cut your damn head right off, ghoul.”

“Squalo,” Xanxus snapped. He reached up, grabbing a handful of Squalo’s hair and pulling, “I told you to keep your mouth shut.” Squalo resisted the pull, turning his head instead.

_ Desperation is a terrible thing,  _ Xanxus thought suddenly. The wildness around the corners of Squalo’s eyes were the same as around Sawada’s. He really thought they were about to die there on the field. 

Couldn’t he see Xanxus was willing to do anything to keep that from happening? For both of them? For  _ all  _ of them?

Gokudera was shuffling through pockets, looking for a phone, while their rain, Yamamoto, rose to his feet. His hands opened and closed on nothing, a familiar enough action that gave Xanxus even more questions. Why would a boy, a ghoul, raised to fight with kagune, make the motion of searching for a weapon when he wouldn’t need one to kill someone? 

Yamamoto stepped up so he was between Gokudera and Hibari. His kagune were even still out, listless before but now wavering to attention. His advance made Squalo’s breathing quicken. Xanxus grit his teeth together. 

“Yamamoto,” Hibari said, still facing Xanxus, “Get control of your human.”

“I am no-” 

Xanxus, fed up with Squalo’s shouting, hit him across the back of his head. Squalo staggered forward, glanced back at him in shock before realizing that doing so left him vulnerable to ghouls. He quickly regained his footing and hissed wordlessly. 

“Hibari?” Gokudera’s voice cuts across the air, high and edged with a frantic worry, “She says Reborn isn’t at the house? She also… she also wants to know what happened. What… what should I tell her?”

There’s a pause, heavy and tense, broken by the sudden arrival of Bel. He was wrapped in mist chains, ones that vanished the moment he was deposited on the ground unceremoniously. Getting to his feet, he brushed himself off. “Hello.”

“Seriously, Hibari,” Gokudera asked, “What do I tell--- Mama?” He gripped the phone with two hands, “Mama, no no, Mama- It’s fine here- You don’t need to- Really- Wait!”

Hibari spun on his heel to face him. “What did she say?”

Gokudera lowered the phone and looked up with wide, horrified eyes, “Mama’s coming here. She’s gonna…. She’s gonna … She’s gonna see the Tenth.” 

Squalo backed up so far enough that he bumped into Xanxus. “Tsuyoshi spoke about her,” he whispered, not looking away from the teens who were now promptly arguing between Yamamoto and Gokudera while Hibari stood, staring off into the  middle distance with his good hand tucked under his bad arm, tonfa and all. Bel rocked back and forth on his heels, smiling absently, playing with one of his knives. 

Xanxus knew then that Squalo was well and truly at the end of his rope because he didn’t even snap at Bel to take this seriously. He was panicking, breathing sharp and quick, as he repeated what he had learned about this ‘Mama’. “She’s a ghoul, through and through, one that’s been affiliated with the Hibari clan for several  years now. He said that when she fell in love with Sawada Iemitsu, it was completely. So completely that when he fucking left her and told her to tell his son that he had gone off to become a star, she damn near lost her fucking mind.” Squalo gave a full body shudder, “He said not to cross her. Ever.”

“...There are some things that really are useful to know beforehand, Squalo,” Xanxus muttered. “This is one of them.”

“I never thought we’d actually meet her!” Squalo snapped. His head jerked as he struggled against not turning to look at Xanxus, but keep his eye on the teenagers. Gokudera was no fully on his feet, freaking out at Hibari.

Hibari was eyeing him cooly, completely unresponsive. Xanxus wondered who would crack first, Hibari and his mask, Squalo and his control, Gokudera and his sanity or Yamamoto and his literal face. The boy had started smiling when Gokudera hung up the phone and hadn’t stopped.

“She’ll be here any second!” Gokudera shouted, “She’s going to find the Tenth’s body! Hibari, we have to fucking do something! Yamamoto, stop grinning like a fucking idiot and help me get Hibari to do a damn thing!”

“Haha, there’s nothing we can do,” Yamamoto said, “Hibari’s in charge and he had  you call in Mama. We just have to wait until she gets here and see what happens!”

“You guys!” Gokudera ran a hand through his hair, “What the fuck! We can’t let her… She’s his mom! If she sees him like that, with that big hole in his chest…”

“She will be appeased by the sacrifice of the monkey king,” Hibari said suddenly. “Maybe even enough to share. He smells good.” His eyes flicked towards Xanxus suddenly, focusing on the dried blood on his neck. “Tsuna did that to you, yes?”

Xanxus gripped Squalo’s arm, squeezing it tightly so he wouldn’t speak. “Yeah,” he replied, “He did.”

 

_ “Why do you taste so good?” The hunger in those eyes had been otherworldly and yet human at the same time. What was it that Yamamoto had said to Squalo before? There are many ways to taste a man? _

 

“He also said that you should have a bite of him, to help you heal, before he died. Which I think is pretty fucked up.” Xanxus added, anything to stall time, distract them and Squalo, to diffuse the anger. Or at least try to diffuse it. “I didn’t think ghouls ate other ghouls.”

“They do,” came the surprising addition to the conversation. Bel stopped twirling his knife around his finger. “Not all of them, mind you. A ghoul tastes awful to another ghoul, but you can stomach it if you want the power that comes with it.”

Xanxus was not alone in the utterly shocked stare he gave Belphegor. The blond prince only smiled, bright and wide, and said, “The kagune of another ghoul tastes the same, whether or not you’re related to them.”

“Xanxus,” Squalo breathed out a whisper, “Did you know?” 

Grudgingly he muttered back, “I had suspicions but-”

_ “Xanxus.” _

“Look, I wasn’t going to fucking ask him if he was a ghoul, Squalo. If I wasn’t certain then they couldn’t make me fucking kill him too, okay?” 

“She’s here!” Yamamoto  _ cheered,  _ throwing his hands into the air. “Mama!”

Xanxus’s heart leaped into his throat and then stuttered to a stop there as he turned and saw the woman that had Squalo so terrified and the ghoul children so excited. 

She was not at all what he expected.

 

* * *

 

Mama didn’t look any different than normal as she walked across the field. Hayato noticed this with the most distant part of his brain, the rest of it thrown into full blown panic at the thought that his beloved boss’s mother was there and was going to see Tsuna’s body- know that Tsuna  _ killed himself. _

 

_ “You have to be a little careful with Mama,” Tsuna gave a weird little smile as he said that, “Usually she’s really good, you know? But sometimes she can get… bad.” _

_ “Bad?” Hayato had asked. Any family of Tsuna’s was family that he cared about and thus, wanted to do everything he could to protect and care for them. “What do you mean?” _

_ “Like, most of the time? When Dad comes back to visit, she’s really good. Super happy he’s around and all that, but after he goes? Sometimes she’ll go away for awhile. Maybe a couple of days or a week. It used to be worse when I was little, but now it’s better. She’s better. She can cope better, especially with all of us here to distract her.” Tsuna had laughed then, small as his smile and almost nervous. “But sometimes… I don’t know.. Something will set her off and she’ll become ...bad.”  _

_ Hayato’s worry must have showed on his face because Tsuna put up both hands, placating and calming, “Not bad as in she’ll hurt anyone or herself or anything! Just… she’ll pick up some bad habits. Ones that Auntie Chika says she dropped years ago. So just… be careful with Mama. And she’ll be careful with us.” _

 

Hayato knew he was hyperventilating. He knew it because his throat was beginning to hurt and his vision spinning. Yamamoto slapped him across the back but that didn’t help any. He staggered, almost fell to his knee, but caught himself and struggled upright. 

Mama’s neat brown hair bounced with each footstep. She wasn’t very tall, not like Xanxus, not like her husband, but somehow she seemed to be approaching quickly, her steps eating up the ground until she was almost there. She wore the same kind of clothes that he always saw her in, jeans, a shirt, a sweater on over that with small floral buttons at the front. The only difference was that she wore gloves. Bright red ones that disappeared underneath the long sleeves of her sweater. 

Almost as an afterthought, Hayato’s gaze caught the white oval bouncing at her hip. He didn’t recognize it, saw only that it was tied loosely to a belt loop, and, when the front of it faced him, it had a blank white background with black holes for eyes and a black line curved in a smile. There were splashes of red on it, as bright as her gloves. Hayato swallowed around the lump in his throat and forced himself to stop staring at it.

_ That’s her mask,  _ he thought with that tiny not-screaming part of his brain.  _ She’s a ghoul and all ghouls have masks. Why isn’t she wearing it? Oh. Oh… she doesn’t know. She doesn’t-  _

“Hayato-kun,” Mama walked straight for him. Why? He couldn’t guess, but he was glad that she did. One second she was still twenty feet away, and then she was in front of him, hands on his shoulders. “Honey,” she smiled, “take deep breaths, okay? You’re going to be all right. Mama is here now.” 

Fresh tears formed in Hayato’s eyes, “Mama, it’s- You shouldn’t have-” He choked around the words and stuttered into silence as she pulled him into a hug. She smelled like the clean linen of her home and of fresh coffee. Hayato put his arms around her and hugged back. 

“Kyou-kun,” Mama said while she held him. Hayato squeezed his eyes shut, tensing. “I thought tonight was your match. Did it not go well?”

“I won,” Hibari said. He sounded closer. Hayato peeked out with one eye and saw that he had, indeed, come closer. “Tsuna and I were discussing body rights over the feathered human when he interfered. And then the baby got involved in their fight and Tsuna-” he stopped. His mouth was open but no sound came out. He opened and shut his mouth a few times before shaking his head and pointing. “Over there. Tsuna is over there.”

Mama’s fingers tightened on Hayato. He could feel the tips of her fingers digging through the cloth of his shirt and into his skin. He bit his cheek and endured the pain. She was stronger than he had ever even considered. 

_ She’s a ghoul,  _ that tiny sensible part of his brain muttered,  _ she’s a ghoul and you’re right in her arms.  _

But he was safe there, right? He lived with Mama. She was his- She had- If Tsuna was gone, really gone, then she had body rights, didn’t she? She would take care of him, wouldn’t she?

She wouldn’t…  hurt him.

Would she?

“Who is that with him, Ryou-kun? And those other two.” 

“Mukuro and the Varia sun guardian,” Yamamoto piped up from the other side. “He was the one who helped Sasagawa reattach Hibari’s arm.” 

_ “Reattach?”  _ Mama asked with an arch to her voice and a shift in her stance. Hayato tightened his arms around her. Maybe, just maybe, he could keep her over here, away from Tsuna, away from finding out-

“Xanxus shot off Hibari’s arm when he interrupted their claim dispute,” Yamamoto again. Far too cheerful. “And then he gave the gun to Tsuna that he-” 

“Stop!” Hayato jerked his head back, shouting at that stupid idiot. Was he just going to say it like that? Didn’t he have any sense? You had to be  _ careful with Mama.  _ He couldn’t pull away from her, though, not in time to stop that idiot with those blood-black eyes and that too wide, too hungry grin. God, Hayato had forgotten, his kagune was out, he was still fucked up- 

A flash of black and white, stained with red, and the sound of metal against bone cuts off Yamamoto surer than anything Hayato could have said. Yamamoto hits his knees hard and then lands with a solid thump on the ground, kagune receding, eyes rolling back in his head. Hibari stood behind him, tonfa up, smeared with blood. He looked up from Yamamoto to Mama and said, “Ghoul hysteria is forbidden upon school grounds.” 

Hayato could feel Mama’s shuddering breath. He did his best to comfort her, patting her back gently. “Mama,” he said, speaking softly, “Mama, can you listen to me for a second?”

She looked down at him. Her eyes were wide, “Hayato-kun?”

“It’s… The Tenth, he…” Hayato swallowed down the tears that threatened to fall, “He… when he was fighting with Xanxus, they were talking about his father. And they were talking about him becoming Decimo, you know? Like the next Vongola leader.”

Her lips turned down in a frown. “The Vongola. Right. Reborn told us plenty about them yesterday… I can’t believe my little Tsu-kun would ever lead such a bloody organization.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hayato tried to smile. It didn’t quite work. He stopped trying. He wasn’t much good at smiles anyway. “Tsuna didn’t really want to be the Decimo either. He- He gave his ring to Xanxus. We saw him give it over. Even, even Reborn saw and-”

Mama’s eyes were slowly rising from Hayato’s face. He held onto her tighter, speaking quicker. “Reborn saw and he went over to try and convince him to change his mind, to take the ring back! And then- a-a-and then Tsuna he, he struggled and- and took the gun from Xanxus and he- he-” 

Hayato was no better than Hibari, it seemed. He couldn’t say it either.

“Tsu-kun?” Mama whispered. “Baby? Mama’s here-” She began to pull away and Hayato, desperate to stop her, clung harder. 

“No,” his tears started again, “No. Mama, just stay here, please-” His words broke off to a cry of pain as she took his arms and pried them off of her body. Hayato looked up at her but she wasn’t even seeing him anymore. 

“Tsu-kun,” She called, “Mama’s coming now.” She was smiling but her eyes were bloody and black and Hayato stopped struggling against her. He let his arms go limp, let her let go of him, and slid down to his knees.

Mama walked right past him as he sank down to the ground, shaking, hard. He grabbed the grass with both hands, leaning over, bracing himself with his arms. He took shallow breaths, trying not to scream, trying not to vomit. 

He had, unfortunately, seen plenty of ghoulish eyes- had even seen Tsuna’s just the other night- but he had only seen eyes like Mama’s in that moment once before. 

There were whispers that the worst thing one could do was to kill a ghoul child without killing its parent first. For such a vicious, bloodthirsty species, their paternal instinct was incredibly strong. 

Hayato had made that mistake once. Just once. It had taken weeks to recover from that, weeks he couldn’t spare while living out on the streets, doing grunt work and small hits just to survive. Reborn had taken him away from that, had brought him here, where it was safe.

Except now it wasn’t. Not anymore.

Tsuna was dead and Mama… 

Mama was broken.

 

* * *

 

At the edge of his peripheral vision, Mukuro saw something pink and faded blue and glanced up to see a woman in a sweater and jeans walking towards them with wide ghoul-dark eyes and a face that was so familiar…. Oh. Oh. She looked just like Tsunayoshi. Just older and taller and-

He jerked his gaze back to the unmoving chest under his hands. Ryouhei was panting across from him, sweating, tapped out for all his sun flame’s worth and now it was just him. Just Mukuro.

Just Mukuro with Chrome in the back of his head, whispering how far away Nana was before she was there. 

Mukuro snapped at her to  _ shut up.  _ It was ruder than he liked to be to  his darling Chrome, but  _ now was not the time for measurements of incoming doom.  _

Now was the time to start that little heart. Now. Now. Now.

“Beat,” he hissed, words ragged in his throat. “Beat.  _ Beat.  _ Just start beating, damn you!”

There was still silence under his fingers when a shadow from a petite body in a pink sweater crossed over them. Mukuro closed his eyes and willed his flames to bend one more time, bend and twist and form the perfect illusion. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what, did you think i was out of surprises? Hell nah


	7. Intermission: In a Secret Base Far Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is being really difficult so here's a scene that really doesn't fit anywhere in the chapter schedules but makes a perfect intermission. You all wanted to know who the Arcobaleno ghouls are, right? well here they are

There was blood in his mouth.

It took Reborn a moment to realize that. It took him even longer moments to realize that his eyes were open and, while his limbs were bound flat to whatever it was he was lying on, he was moving. What told him this was that the thing in front of his eyes, what was that again…. Well whatever it was it kept moving above him.

“That’s a ceiling,” said a voice, “and ceiling lights. We’re almost there now.”

Oh. Had he said that out loud?

“Yes. And that too.”

Reborn groaned.

A face ducked into his vision, blocking out the lights that passed overhead. The lights illuminated blond hair and a green bandana tied over bright blue eyes. “Good morning, Reborn!”

Reborn’s fingers twitched for a gun or even just to reach out towards, was that Colonello? What was he doing here in Italy? ...Were they even still in Italy? But when he tried to move, pain lanced up his arm and he let out a grunt.

Colonello looked away from him, “He’s making pain noises again, Fon. Did you give him the right amount?”

There was no verbal reply, but the cart? Table? Bed? Thing that he was bound to jerked forward a little faster. Colonello crouched down, getting closer to Reborn as he grabbed something to stabilize himself. “Sorry,” Colonello said, his face completely unapologetic. “Fon’s in a bit of a mood. It took a bit of time to get here through all the security and customs and ah, who am I kidding? Smuggling doesn’t have any of that kind of shit! Fon’s just pissy because it took so long for us to get you here. We hit traffic between uhhh… one small shitty town and the next, you know? Shit happens when you don’t the helicopter like I suggested in the first place!” He said this with a look backwards again.

The cart-table-bed jerked again and Reborn grunted again in pain. “So you… fucked up… and I have to suffer?” he said through each painful grunt.

“Hey now,” Colonello said, getting in his face again, “I’m not the motherfucker who joined the fucking Vongola and encouraged little baby ghouls into fighting for their lives against experienced ghoul-killing assassins.”

“Half,” Reborn protested. He was waking up more, now, and the pain was lessening. “Tsunayoshi is half.”

“Yeah. And pretty impressive for being a half-breed too.” Colonello pokes him hard in the forehead, “At least he fucking was, anyway. Then you Vongola bastards had to walk in and shit all over his life. That does not please me in _any_ way, maggot.”

“What?” Reborn tried to turn his head away from the poke and discovered that his head was being held down too. And he wore a brace on his neck. A quick twitch of fingers and toes and everything in between told him that he was not only broken in a hell of a lot of places but that he was bandaged, in casts and _still_ strapped down with thick leather. “Why do you even care?”

Colonello held his chin in one hand, forcing Reborn to go still and stop evaluating his body’s situation and stare up at him. Between one blink and the next, Colonello’s bright blue eyes go ghoulish. Reborn whimpers.

“Good,” Colonello says, “You’re catching on.”

They come to a stop. There’s a light above them and the soft dinging sound of elevator doors opening. Colonello shifts back as another weight joins him on the bed. Fon appears in Reborn’s line of sight but he’s only gets a quick, silent glance before the Storm Arcobaleno steps away again.

“This is so stupid,” Colonello says. “Who has four floors to their secret base anyway? Who needs this kind of space?”

Fon says nothing.

Reborn tries not to whimper again and succeeds.

It’s the quiet elevator music that makes Reborn’s pulse start to race. It’s so normal that it’s the most surreal thing in this whole experience. His breathing speeds up, becomes erratic, as the elevator comes to a slow stop and the doors open with another chime. The music fades out as Fon drops down and starts pushing the cart again.

“Oi!” Colonello shouts, “We’re here!”

“You’re late,” comes the reply, distant and somewhat distracted. Reborn can smell blood in the air and… and something else.

“There was traffic over the bridge. Well. There used to be a bridge. That’s why there was traffic.”

“Didn’t you say you were going to take the helicopter?” A slightly more interested tone in this reply.

“Fon said not to get any attention. Vongola’s looking for Reborn and they’ve got Lal helping. I agreed because I’m not about to get her into any trouble.”

“Tch,” Fon’s voice, “You’re too soft on her. You always have been.”

“Don’t be jealous, Fon, wrinkles can still ruin your baby face.”

There’s a series of thumps and shouts as Colonello rolls out of view, and, for a split second, Fon is in the air above Reborn, going after him.

“Hey, Hey!” The third voice. Reborn is struggling to place it. His head is aching and his body throbs in time with his heartbeat. He’s pretty sure at least a hundred of his two hundred and six bones might be broken. “Watch the equipment! If you two are going to bounce around like the little kids you resemble then do it outside. This operation is difficult enough on an adult, it’s going to be hellish on someone like him.”

 _Operation?_ Reborn tries to sit up again but is held down. He struggles, in vain, and only ends up hurting himself more. “What are you doing to me?”

Fon appears above him, looking down at him with his normal face. That does nothing to calm Reborn down. After some silent evaluation, Fon looks up, “Are you ready yet? I don’t have all day. I need to get to Namimori as soon as I can.”

“I’m ready, I’m ready!” Another body joins them on the bed and Reborn’s eyes widen at the sight of Verde. Verde adjusts his glasses and looks him over with a clinical expression. “Dear god, Fon, is there even access to his body with all these casts? How long did you beat him?”

“Not long enough,” Fon replied, “Everything broke and he got boring. And there is certainly access. You said you were going to do a koukaku type on him so I left that area of the back free. His ribs are only broken in the _front.”_

“What operation?” Reborn tried again, this time asking Verde.

“Why,” Verde said with a small little smile. The lights flashed over his glasses. The eyes beneath were dark- a ghoul’s eyes. Reborn visibly flinched at the sight of them. “Enacting your punishment, of course. Fon says you won’t ever learn just from a beating or two. If that were true, you wouldn’t have done such monumentally idiotic things. You need a permanent consequence- as permanent as, say, removing memories. That’s why he’s so _graciously_ allowed me temporary rights to your person.”

“...You have my body rights?” Reborn looked at Verde and then turned his head the fraction of an inch it was able to move and looked to Fon, “You gave him my body rights? Do you have any idea what he’s going to do with me?”

Fon stared back at him, his expression unchanging. “I do.”

“Fon!” Reborn shouted.

“That’s enough chatter from you,” Verde said, reaching for something. He found it- a plastic mask with a tube attached to it- and placed it over Reborn’s mouth and nose. “Time to go to sleep little one. When you wake up… You’ll be a whole new you.” Verde smiled at him, sweetly, as if Reborn were the child he looked like.

Fon leaned over, obscuring Reborn’s vision of the room’s ceiling and of Verde, who leaned back to give him space. As drowsiness from the anesthetic began to pull at Reborn’s consciousness, Fon said quietly, “If you hadn’t given up what we had… If you hadn’t given up your memories, my friend, this wouldn’t be necessary.”

Reborn opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. His eyes fluttered closed, the last thing he saw being Fon’s bitter expression as he sank into a drugged unconsciousness.


	8. Tempo of the Heart: Steady, Strong, and Reassuring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was just... well.. unexpectedly twisty. Some of you might have noticed a missing relationship tag. well that's because things are shifting a little bit and, uh, I'm not exactly sure how the dynamic around Xanxus will play out. should be interesting, though!
> 
> Anyway, Heads Up Readers: there's discussion about Takeshi's (canon but slightly altered to fit AU) suicidal behavior in this chapter as Tsuyoshi returns to be the Dadliest Dad.

Mukuro suddenly found all of Tsuna’s weight on his legs instead of only a portion. With his eyes still closed, he could hear Ryouhei moving, standing, but he couldn’t pay attention to it. He was almost done- almost finished- he had to _concentrate._

There was the sound of impact, of flesh hitting flesh, and a grunt of pain.

Immediately following that, Mukuro’s face was splattered with a warm liquid. Despite himself, his eyes jerked open. The first thing he saw was fresh blood sprayed across his arms and Tsuna’s exposed chest. There was more of it on his cheek, dripping down his chin like tears, and he looked up for the source of it.

Grey eyes looked back at him. Ryouhei offered a smile, one that quickly dropped away as his gaze fell to Mukuro’s hands. “Mukuro!” He shouted. Mukuro couldn’t believe he was shouting, breathing, _speaking._ There were bright red tentacles sticking out of his torso and abdomen- three of them. Another two dug into his arms.

“You have to concentrate to the extreme!” Ryouhei’s hand reached out to him, pushed at his cheek, forcibly trying to move Mukuro’s gaze off him and back down.

Mukuro couldn’t look away, though, not when he could see all that blood, all those injures, all those _tentacles._ Without his attention, his hands began to sink into the hole he had been filling with necessary organs.

 _Mukuro! Tsuna’s heart!_ Chrome’s words snapped Mukuro’s gaze away from Ryouhei’s face. “His heart-”

The shadow over him was gone in the next moment. Mukuro flinched at the heavy sound of a body- Ryouhei’s body- hitting the ground. His fingers pressed down, phasing through the illusion and that’s when he felt it.

“Don’t!” His mouth moved, but it was Chrome’s voice coming out not his. “Mama! Don’t! We just got his heart beating again!”

He looked up into the face of a madwoman- a maddened ghoul- with bloody-black eyes staring down at him, and Chrome spoke for him again, “Tsuna’s heart is beating, Mama, but we need to help him breathe. Okay?”

The woman is poised for attack, her whole body arched over him, but she’s stopped dead in her tracks. He would think her as dead as the body in his arms if not for the fact that her breath was ragged, heaving, and for the fact that he has just brought back Tsuna from death. “I have to give him some air,” Mukuro explained, “His heart is beating again, but I have to give him some air. Okay?

Slowly, she nodded her head. She didn’t move back but she didn’t advance either. Swallowing nervously, Mukuro bent over Tsuna. His back was exposed to her and her weapons, but it had to be done. Taking in a lungful of air, Mukuro pressed his mouth over Tsuna’s and breathed it out again.

He repeated this until the heartbeat under his palm strengthened, until the chest moved on its own accord. Light headed, he drew back and let out a shaky laugh. “Mama?” He said, looking up at the woman, “Tsuna needs to go to the hospital. I’ve done everything that I can for him.” He started lifting the boy up.

In a second, Nana swept up Tsuna in her arms. She cradled the boy against her chest, his arms dangling and his head on her shoulder. “Thank you,” she said. Then she drew back and kicked off the ground. Mukuro slumped over, exhausted, propped up with one arm.

A hand on his knee makes him jump and he looks up to see Ryouhei kneeling in front of him. Blood is seeping through the young man’s clothes, but he’s grinning. “You did it? You saved him?”

“Yeah,” Mukuro blinks in surprise as Ryouhei cups his face in his hands. He feels the warmth of his blood, the callouses on his hands and Mukuro can’t help but smile. “He’ll live.”

Ryouhei’s grey eyes are shining. His whole expression is lit from the inside like the sun is underneath his skin. “That’s amazing. _You’re_ amazing.”

Mukuro blinked and felt his face heat up. _Okay, nope. I cannot. This is too much. What is this boy even thinking?_

 _I don’t know,_ Chrome said unhelpfully in the back of his head, _but he’s very cute while thinking it._

 _Chrome. No._ “You’re injured. You’re losing a lot of blood.” He reached up and pulled Ryouhei’s hands from his face, “You’re delusional.”

“This is nothing,” Ryouhei said, shaking his head. “I’ve lost more blood than this before! My body is extremely strong! A few holes like this won’t keep me down!” He held Mukuro’s hands, which was exactly the opposite of what Mukuro was hoping for. He surged to his feet, dragging Mukuro along with him. Blood dripped readily from his wounds, staining his shirt, and Mukuro did his best not to stare.

“How often does this sort of thing happen?” Mukuro asked. He managed to wrangle one hand free so he could gesture around the yard. It was mangled, the cloud arena torn up from the still very collapsed robot and then again from Tsuna’s fight with Hibari.

“Not very often,” Ryouhei admits, still holding onto Mukuro’s hand. He sways a little on his feet, and Mukuro eyed him.

“Shouldn’t you go to a hospital?” Mukuro tugged on his arm. Ryouhei held fast.

“As soon as we tell Kyoya that Tsuna’s better.” Ryouhei said. He started walking towards the others, fingers tangling with Mukuro’s. Blood was dripping down his arm and Mukuro gave up on rescuing his hand from the boxer’s tight grip. “You need to go too, remember? Chrome’s arm has been bitten.”

 _That’s right._ Mukuro couldn’t feel it because Chrome was maintaining that illusion while his attention and strength was poured into Tsuna’s illusionary organs. He could feel them in use, distant and growing more so. “Chrome’s wound is much less serious than yours. She’ll recover without the hospital.” He could feel Chrome’s relief in the back of his head.

Hospitals still freaked her out, even after the operation that had, well, technically saved her life. And changed it irrevocably.

“Kyoya!” Ryouhei shouted, lifting his free hand, “Mukuro did it! Mama went and took Tsuna to the hospital now.”

Hibari gave a nod, but his eyes were on Xanxus and Squalo. “Yamamoto-san has been contacted to come and pick up his son and their property.”

Mukuro slid his gaze past Hibari’s shoulders to the two Italian men. A smile spread across his face at their expressions. They stood so close together they were nearly touching. Squalo’s face was as white as his hair and Xanxus looked somewhere between wary and angry. Protective. That was probably the right word. He met the taller man’s gaze and smiled even wider. “Tsuna will live,” Mukuro said, “No thanks to you, mafioso.”

Xanxus doesn’t rise to the bait. _What a shame._ “What happens now?”

“We wait,” Hibari answered. His gaze flicked to the blond Belphegor, “You accept responsibility for the unclaimed humans of the Varia?”

“Sure!” Belphegor grinned. “That is Lussuria, Mammon and Levi, yes? The Prince can maintain them.”

Hibari shook his head, “Mammon is one of those cursed seven, is he not? His body rights are claimed by another. Under your name you have the other two humans.”

“Mammon’s claimed?” Belphegor cocked his head to the side. “By whom?”

Hibari turned his head away, his lips twisted in displeasure. “Another one of that group. As for you, shark human, you will accompany Yamamoto-san. Takeshi is a minor so his rights default to his father. The same goes for you, monkey king. Mama is in control of your rights, because Tsuna is a minor.”

Abruptly, he turned on his heel to stare at Mukuro. His gaze was intense, his human eyes as hard as the steel they resembled. “You are certain Tsuna is alive?”

“I swear it on my current life. So long as my organs are in his body, they will support his life.” Mukuro smiled, pressing his hand over his heart. His other was still held by Ryouhei and he stood in such a way that Hibari wouldn’t see it.

Hibari nodded sharply. He turned towards the remaining unaddressed member of the group, Gokudera.

The silver haired teen knelt on the ground beside Yamamoto. He held a cell phone in either hand, tears on his face and a bewildered expression. Hibari spoke to him a little softer than he had the others, “You will return to Mama’s house. She is the one to whom you belong as well.”

“I… Right…” Gokudera said numbly. He blinked and ducked his head, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand.

It was quite the motley crew that stood around, Mukuro mused to himself. Well, to himself and Chrome. There were the Italians in their varying stages of distress and panic. There were the other ghouls- Hibari who had reverted into the efficient, rule abiding creature he was, Belphegor who loitered with a grin and a rocking back and forth on his heels, and Ryouhei with his warm hand curled around Mukuro’s own. Yamamoto didn’t really count as he was still unconscious on the ground. And then there was himself.

Exhaustion was creeping up on him, both mental and physical. He had poured a lot of effort into those organs. Even though he had taken as much flame from Ryouhei as he could manage to bolster the strength of the cells, it had still been an ordeal.

_Chrome?_

_Yes?_ Her voice was steady in his thoughts. Good.

_Be a dear and take over for me, would you? I’m going to rest for a while. Tsunayoshi’s demanding a bit more attention than I expected._

_Ah,_ came her reply, _I’m still a little weak myself, but yes. I can take over._

He nodded absently and closed his eyes. He felt the mist pull away from his body, felt Chrome rise to the surface as he began to sink down into the cool depths of her thoughts. Distantly, he noticed her turning to look at Ryouhei. The full-ghoul looked at them with widening eyes as Mukuro’s image melted away to reveal Chrome’s beneath. With the last of his direct influence on her features, Mukuro touched Chrome’s lips into his own smirk and spoke, “You wouldn’t let a pretty girl fall onto the ground in exhaustion, would you, Ryouhei?”

There was the sudden sensation of a strong arm curving around his- Chrome’s- middle to support her on her feet and, chuckling, Mukuro gave Chrome full control once more.

 

* * *

 

Hayato sat, as though nothing had happened at all, at Mama’s kitchen with a cup of coffee cradled between his hands. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend that this was the night after the Rain Ring Battle, where Tsuna had sat on one side and Mama across the table while they told him the truth.

_“Love is… blinding,” Mama had said with a distant look in her eyes. “Iemitsu saw what he wanted in me and I saw what I wanted in him. He wanted… a wife and a child. A home to return to. I wanted to keep him by my side forever. But it turns out what we want isn’t necessarily what makes us happy.”_

The porcelain was warm under his palms. The coffee was dark, rich with flavor and unsweetened. He had gotten used to that quickly in Namimori. Sure, there were places that served cream and sugar, and places you could order mochas or lattes, but the plain black coffee of Namimori was good. Really good. Hayato hadn’t needed sugar in his coffee back home in Italy, but here he didn’t even want it.

 _Back home in Italy,_ he thought with a bitter twist to his lips, _as if I can ever go back there. I probably stink of ghoul. Especially after tonight…_

The scraping of another chair’s legs made Hayato snap his eyes open and look up.

Xanxus, all six feet plus of him, with those damn feathers in his hair and his black clothes still scuffed from his fight, dragged the chair across the table out and then dropped into the seat. When he moved his head, there as a flash of white at his ear, the bandage on his lobe, and his neck had been wiped clean.

Hayato scowled at him.

Xanxus lifted a lip in a silent snarl.

Sasagawa Kyoko, the one who had made the coffee in the first place, put a cup in front of Xanxus. She smiled, but Hayato had seen plenty of her smiles to know that this one was barely friendly. “You’ll have to be satisfied with black coffee, sir. Mama seems to be out of cream and sugar.”

Xanxus grunted and took a drink.

Hayato glanced to Kyoko. She turned a much friendlier smile to him. “Are you hungry, Gokudera? Mama’s got some human food that I can prepare if you want it.”

He shook his head. “Have you heard anything from your family?”

“Not yet.” Kyoko sat down at the table with them. She had her own mug, one that was shaped like a cat, the handle being the tail and small paws at the base of it. “Nothing since Mom said Ryouhei was getting treated.”

“Oh. Okay.” Hayato slouched in his chair. He turned his cup back and forth, sighing. He looked up again at Xanxus, “Can I ask you something, Xanxus?”

And how weird was that? To address the leader of the Varia- Vongola Nono’s own fourth son- by his first name? Not to mention sitting with him at Tsuna’s mother’s kitchen table, drinking coffee in the middle of the night, waiting there like they were participating in a midnight vigil in privacy instead of at the hospital where so many of the others were.

“I don’t know, trash. Can you?” Xanxus snapped, his voice and his manner as rough as the shaggy cut of his hair.

They both jumped as Kyoko slammed her fist on the table. “You will be respectful in Mama’s house. You two are equals at this table.”

“Tch,” Xanxus, too, slouched in his chair. Hayato stared at him. The way he moved, with purposefully projected indifference, felt weirdly familiar. _Oh,_ he thought. _I do that in school all the time when Yamamoto is being so damn irritating._ “What do you want to know, kid.”

“I grew up in Italy,” Hayato started. He noticed Xanxus’s irritated glare of _‘I knew that, idiot’_ and dropped his gaze to the black coffee in his cup. It was easier to talk when he didn’t have to acknowledge that sharp gaze. “So I know what the ghouls are _like_ there.” He shivered out of habit but pressed on, “I understand why Squalo was so surprised about the ghouls here in Namimori. They’re a lot more… civilized. Human-like. I guess.”

“And?”

“How did you have ghouls in the Varia? I mean- With what your organization does, I suppose it wouldn’t be difficult to keep them fed but…. Italian ghouls aren’t really known for their, uh, domesticated nature.” He flicked a glance up at Kyoko, to see if she was offended, but she was quietly sipping her drink. She looked curious, but only mildly so. After all, she was only there to make sure that they stayed out of trouble.

“Obviously they weren’t Italian.” Xanxus said. “Some were French. I had a few German ones. The Russian twins were excellent assassins, I was even considering employing them as cloud guardians, actually. The British ones pass for human almost as well as the ones here in Namimori. In fact, I even had a few Japanese ghouls.” He set his cup down sharply. Hayato looked up and saw Xanxus staring past him, over his shoulder, like he was looking at something from his memories, instead of the actual wall there. “They were good. We scouted a lot of them- Squalo and I and Lussuria a bit too. We found them ourselves, brought them in, and they swore their loyalty to the Varia, with me as the boss…”

“Even… Even though you knew the Vongola-”

“Look,” Xanxus sat up abruptly. His eyes focused on Hayato at once and he leaned one elbow on the table, “That rule about Vongola associates not enlisting ghouls into their service is a new one. It came out when Enrico died. It came out because Enrico was killed by ghouls in the service of a famiglia that’s under Vongola’s banner. Enrico died and my father finally conceded that fucking Sawada Iemitsu was right.” His empty hands tightened into fists. His knuckles were white. Hayato couldn’t look away from them. They had marks across the back, silver white and faded brown scars. One had part of a black line of a tattoo on it, but he couldn’t tell what it was from the angle.

“For years, that bastard was pushing to eradicate ghouls within branch organizations. At first it would have only been lesser families, but because of Enrico…” Xanxus let out a sharp breath on his brother’s name. “Because of his murder, the ruling was for all associates of Vongola. Even the Varia. If we were to continue our employment contract with them, we had to give up our ghouls.”

“Give up?” Kyoko’s soft voice interjected.

Hayato blinked at her. She had her head cocked. The mug in her hands was between the table and her frowning mouth. He swallowed with difficulty and explained for Xanxus, “They were executed. Heads removed and bodies burned… right? That’s what you said before, Xanxus?”

Xanxus had turned his head away. His fist was pressed against his mouth. Hayato watched his jaw working, like he was clenching and unclenching the muscle. His silence only lasted a minute before he turned, slamming his own fist down onto the table, hard enough to make his cup jolt. _“Don’t look at me like that,”_ he snarled, “I didn’t have a fucking choice in the matter! They just- They just-” He dragged his hand through his hair, pulling on it hard enough that Hayato winced in sympathy.

He covered his eyes with one hand and whispered, “I told the company about the ruling. I told them I wouldn’t accept it. I _told_ them we would find other contracts.  Hell, we’d move the whole group out of Italy if I had to but they- They said- To a soul they all said that that would be bad for the Varia. They gave their loyalty to me, to the organization, and because of that-”

Hayato felt his chest tighten, his gut fill with ice. He knew the loyalty of family. If Tsuna had been faced with a choice like that, if Gokudera himself was dragging down the family-

“They turned themselves in?” He asked, hoping he was wrong but knowing he wasn’t. “They really did that?”

“I recruited them,” Xanxus said, his face still half hidden behind his hand. “I fucking recruited them myself. I welcomed them. They were- They were my people. _Mine._ And I just let them… I just let them all die.”

There was a cracking sound, followed by dripping. Hayato swallowed nervously as he saw coffee spilling from the side of Kyoko’s mug. She blinked, noticed what she had done and rushed to her feet. “Excuse me.” She hurried away into the kitchen, clearly fretting over the cracked cup.

Xanxus lowered his hand from his face. He looked pale, shaken almost, as he watched her trail away. “They really…” His voice was low, almost undertone, clearly only for Hayato’s ears, “The ghouls here really are something else. To react like that, hearing about ghouls they’ve never met in a country they’ve never gone to.”

“In Namimori,” Hayato whispered back, “The ghouls are just like humans. They’re so  much like humans that I didn’t… I didn’t even suspect them, any of them. You think I would, considering where I came from but I got here and I felt safe. The moment I was really in the town, I felt safe.” He rubbed at his forehead, remembering something and chuckling because of it. “I told Reborn that, actually. I told him that this place was too peaceful. That it felt wrong. I didn’t have to look over my shoulder. I wasn’t afraid anymore. I thought that it was just because I finally had… somewhere to belong but…”

“When we arrived, I thought there weren’t any ghouls at all,” Xanxus admitted. “It felt too calm for ghouls. You can’t smell blood in the air. Even the darkest shadows are just shadows. Squalo has a good sense for ghouls and he felt calm here. We knew the town was protected, so we just thought… I mean, the Vongola heir is here. _My father_ visited this place when Tsunayoshi was younger and he never…” He laughed, sudden and bitter and too loud for the quiet of the room. “Fucking Iemitsu _lived_ here and he hates ghouls so much.”

Xanxus continued to laugh, “And his wife! His own goddamn wife! She was a ghoul the whole fucking time!” He leaned back in his chair.  His laughter grew in volume and hysteria. Hayato felt a smile pulling at his lips and then he too was laughing. He laughed until tears were in his eyes, then streaming down his cheeks. He laughed along with Xanxus, but soon, too soon, each breath turned to sobs.

Hayato pressed both of his hands over his mouth and curled over, forehead pressing against the table as he began to cry for the second time that night. He kept crying even when he felt the weight of a hand on the back of his head, fingers threaded through his hair. Tearfully, he looked up at Xanxus. There was pity in the older man’s face, but Hayato couldn’t even feel angry about that.

His whole body, from the roiling emotions in his belly to the chill of his skin to the trembling of his limbs, was consumed in his fear. Pulling his hands down from his mouth, he spoke between gasping, sobbing breaths, “Reborn- w-went b-back. He left. He left. He w-went back to the V-Vongola. He m-must have.” Hayato wiped at his face with both hands but the action was in vain. “He’ll tell them. Tell them about Tsuna. And then- and then- They’re going to come for us-”

Xanxus’s eyes widened. His fingers, curled in silver locks, tightened into a painful grip but Hayato kept talking. The words, the source of his fear, dropped from his lips like the tears from his chin, falling into the air between them and filling it with the revelation he had had abruptly. “They’re going to come here and kill everyone- _Everyone._ The Vongola is going to execute Tsuna and Mama and Yamamoto and Hibari and the Sasagawas- Everyone is going to _die.”_

He reached for Xanxus. The assassin was older than him, more experienced. He was the heir, the Vongola Decimo. Xanxus was the only hope that Hayato could see as his fears crowded him, “Please,” he begged, “You can’t let them. Please. I don’t want my family to die again- Tsuna and Mama and all the rest. Xanxus, please. They’re all I have left in the whole world. Please. Help us. Help me. _Please._ I’ll do anything.”

The hand on the back of his neck was as heavy as a yoke. Hayato’s fingers curled uselessly against the polished wood of the table, too short to reach Xanxus’s body and not daring to grab his arm.  He met Xanxus’s gaze, those orange eyes wide, surprised, but still able to burn right through him. “Please,” he reiterated, “Anything at all.”

Xanxus’s fingers squeezed tighter for a second and then released Hayato entirely. He withdrew his arm, using it to prop himself up as he stood from the table. Hayato lifted his pleading gaze up and his heart stuttered to a stop at Xanxus’s expression.

Lips pressed into a severe line, brows furrowed, with his Sky flame burning in the back of his eyes, Xanxus nodded. “I won’t promise anything,” he said seriously, “But what I can do, I will.” Then a wicked grin spread across his face, drawing his lips back to show too many teeth in a smile reminiscent of a ghoul’s. “I came here to gain the power to rip Iemitsu’s world apart and kill him. I won’t be satisfied until that’s accomplished.

“So stop crying, brat. The right hand can’t afford to be weak when his boss is injured.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cloth, tossing it at Hayato. It landed on his hands and he clutched at it. It was a handkerchief. He blinked at it, tears drying up as Xanxus continued to grin. “Oi, girl!”

Kyoko poked her head out of the kitchen too quickly to not have been eavesdropping. “Yeah?”

“I need to talk to my shitty guardians. Can you bring them here or should I go to them?”

Hayato, still wondering at the handkerchief, used it to clean up his face. Was it silk? It felt like silk. In the corner there was some stitching. His thumb ran over the two letters. _XX. Roman numerals? Wait. No. Initials. Would he be so egotistical as to…. Yeah. Yeah he would be._

“...It’s nearly one am,” She said.

“Yeah? You’re the one serving coffee at midnight, kid.” Xanxus said, “And I’m going to need more, by the way.”

“You should go to sleep,” Kyoko suggested. “Both of you. Whatever you have planned can wait.”

“Tch,” Xanxus waved his hand dismissively. “Where the hell am I supposed to sleep anyway? I’ve seen the couch in this house. That’s short as shit.”

“There’s a spare room,” Kyoko said, “Mama said you could sleep there.”

“Wait,” Hayato jerked to attention, “Spare room? No there isn’t. That’s my room- I mean- Lambo sleeps there too sometimes, so it’s not exactly mine but-”

“Mama said.” Kyoko insisted. “You can sleep in Tsuna’s bed, Gokudera.”

“Th-The Tenth’s?” he stuttered. “I couldn’t!”

“Technically,” Xanxus said, “I’m the Tenth.”

Hayato groaned. “Whatever! But there’s no way I’m going to sleep tonight anyway. I’m too wound up.”

Kyoko sighed. “You boys are being ridiculous. Fine. Don’t sleep. Stay up and be exhausted all tomorrow. As long as you don’t leave the house tonight, I don’t care.” She tossed her hair and said with a sniff, “I’m going upstairs to sleep in Mama’s room. Do _not_ leave the house. I’m not saying this for no reason. There’s a bunch of blood in the air outside and it’s put a lot of ghouls on edge. After midnight is hunting time so it’s safer for humans to stay indoors. Understand?”

Hayato shivered, “Yeah. Okay.” He glanced to Xanxus, who was looking towards the kitchen window with a frown.

“Xanxus?” Kyoko asked, “Do you understand?”

He grunted. “Yes. No leaving the house.” He looked to Hayato, “I’m taking that damn bed. You can have the couch, kid.”

“Good.” Kyoko said. She nodded to them both. “I’m going to check the locks one more time. Goodnight boys.” She walked past them and out of the room entirely. Her footsteps receded down the hallway.

Xanxus rolled his eyes, grumbled something under his breath in, _is that French? What the fuck?_  Hayato wondered, _Is he seriously complaining in French so I won’t understand him?_ And then Xanxus said to him, clearly, “Get some goddamn sleep sometime, boy. Don’t make yourself useless on purpose.”

“Fuck off,” Hayato grumbled. “It won’t be my first sleepless night this month.” He hadn’t slept after the Rain Ring Battle either. Unfortunately, he had made the mistake of trying. Hayato knew better than that for this night. His nightmares wouldn’t leave him alone for a moment.

Xanxus clicked his tongue in annoyance and then stalked out of the room, leaving Hayato alone to his thoughts.

Sulking into his coffee cup, with the silken handkerchief curled in one hand, Hayato stared off at nothing and settled in for a long, silent night alone.

 

* * *

 

Squalo stepped silently into the hallway, his wet hair coiled in a towel draped over his shower and the borrowed sleeping yukata drawn as tight as he could over his lanky frame. There was light coming from a doorway at the end of the hall, opposite of the room he was supposed to be sleeping in, and the sound of someone moving quietly around a room.

He glanced into the darkness, towards the bedrooms, where he could hear the soft snoring of the teen ghoul. Takeshi had woken up shortly after his father had arrived and the concussion Hibari had given him had healed. His protests had all been cut short by Tsuyoshi, and ultimately the boy had been taken home instead of to the hospital.

Not yet tired, despite the late hour, Squalo turned towards the light. Following the footsteps, and the soft sounds of a radio, he found Tsuyoshi in the kitchen. It was almost as spacious as the one that he used in his cafe and as well taken care of. Squalo hesitated in the doorway and the other man gestured for him to enter the room without looking up from his work. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?” he asked, absently reaching out a hand to turn down the radio.

The soft voices became indistinguishable. Squalo strained to hear what was being said, or sung, but couldn’t quite make it out. He took a seat at the small kitchen table, folding his arms over his chest. “I could use a drink,” he said. “Something alcoholic, preferably.”

Tsuyoshi chuckled. He set down the knife he was working with and wiped his hands on a cloth. “You’re in luck. A friend of mine heard that Takeshi picked up a human boyfriend again and brought around a gift.” He opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine. “It’s not something I could enjoy myself, unfortunately, but it’s the thought that counts…”

He peeled back the covering and rummaged in a drawer to find a corkscrew.

“Ghouls can’t have alcohol either?” Squalo asked. It took a lot of will to look away from the knife that Tsuyoshi had been using. The blade could be a weapon as well as a tool and he was aware that Tsuyoshi could use it efficiently in both ways. He tightened his grip on his own arms until his fingers began to hurt. Time, a change in scenery, and his long shower had helped distance him from the panic induced from hostile ghouls but…

It was there, on the backs of his eyelids, whenever he blinked.

“Not the way humans prepare it for their own consumption,” Tsuyoshi said. He poured some into a glass and placed it on the table near Squalo. “We have something similar to it.”

“Oh?” Squalo took the cup in one faintly trembling hand. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and reminded himself that Tsuyoshi hadn’t shown even the slightest bit of aggression to him. Not even when he had found Takeshi passed out in the grass and blood all over the field. “What is that?”

“Blood wine,” was the reply. Tsuyoshi returned back to his place at the counter. There was the staccato of his knife blade hitting the cutting board, a dull _thock tho-thock_ that reminded Squalo of the ticking of a clock more than anything else. He could see the knife blade flash in the kitchen light. He reminded himself that all the ghouls that had ever threatened him- had ever been a real concern in his life- had come at him bare handed with kagune out.

Tsuyoshi showed no signs of attack. Squalo wondered if he’d strike with knife or kagune first. He had no intention of finding out which it would be.

“Figures,” He muttered, sipping the wine. It tasted fine, though it wasn’t any vintage he recognized or particularly special in any way. It was wine and that was enough. He sipped in silence, watching Tsuyoshi under lowered lashes. As he grew accustomed to the knife, to the man’s movements, he noticed a pattern to them.

With his left hand he reached to a plate beside him and pulled off some uncooked meat that was clearly pre-prepared from the irregular cylinder shape of it. Each strip was carefully sliced and then those slices were placed into a different container on the right. Squalo watched for several minutes, nothing said between them, before his mind actually digested what his eyes were seeing.

“That isn’t fish,” he said abruptly.

Tsuyoshi’s knife hesitated mid-slice. Then he pointedly finished the motion and continued his work. “You’re right. It isn’t.”

Squalo took a gulp of the wine to get rid of the sudden dryness of his throat. His breath came short so he forced himself to look away and take a deep breath. He let it out in a gusty sigh. His gaze settled on the fridge and the pictures held onto it with various magnets. There was Takeshi, grinning, in a baseball uniform with a bat resting on his shoulder and a helmet tucked under his other arm. Another one of him as a child, holding a baseball in both hands and gumming on it toothlessly. Another, perhaps the most recent, with a bandage on his cheek and one arm around the Sawada boy’s shoulders. Gokudera, the other boy attached to Sawada at the hip, was also there on the other side of the young brunette, smiling awkwardly.

“He really likes baseball,” Squalo said. Anything to keep his mind off of the fact that Tsuyoshi was casually slicing up human flesh in his own kitchen. “Has it always been that way?”

“Well, not always.” Tsuyoshi said. “Last year he picked up the sword instead of the bat. Sure, baseball may always be his true love, but he practices just as much with a blade as he does on the field.”

Squalo blinked, _“Last year?”_ He was already reaching for the bottle of wine, to refill his drink. He definitely, _definitely_ needed it. _If Xanxus bitches about me having a hangover tomorrow I will just laugh in his face because at least I had a fucking drink and he didn’t._

“Impressive, isn’t he? He might not be very smart when it comes to his bookwork in school, but, well, I suppose he really takes after his mother that way. His body is well trained, gifted even. He just had to find the thing that he was made for.” Tsuyoshi sealed up the container with the fresh slices and pulled over an empty one. He continued to work, filling that one as well.

Squalo ran a hand over his face. “Last year,” he muttered to himself. He had thought the boy trained at least since he was eight in the stances and forms, if not the actual blade until he was older. If Takeshi were taught different techniques, for example, any of the dozens that Squalo knew…

“He would be untouchable.”

“What was that?” Tsuyoshi paused, glancing over his shoulder.

Squalo blinked. He met the man’s gaze and then looked away again. “Have you taught him everything you know about the sword?”

A longer pause and then, “Yes.”

“I could teach him more.” He _wanted_ to teach him more. Needed to. His knowledge plus Takeshi’s instinctive understanding? He was young- He had so much room to grow, to become something incredible, something that Squalo could only see the barest edge of right now.

He looked down at the glass in his hand. The wine was light, he noticed for the first time. Not red like blood as he had expected or even a simple white. It was pink. Sweet. He could barely taste it as he drank it, though, his mouth filled with the savor of his thoughts. “With the proper guidance and motivation, he could become completely unreachable in battle.”

Tsuyoshi set down his knife with a noticeable _thunk._ He wiped his hands off again, slowly, the residue of blood adding more color to the otherwise white cloth. He turned to face Squalo properly, leaning against the counter. “You will not make my son into something he is not.”

The sweetness of his discovery soured at those words. Squalo scowled at him. “I’m not going to force him into anything. But I’ve seen the way he holds his sword, Tsuyoshi. I’ve seen the way his face looks in the middle of a duel. I’ll offer and he will accept.”

“Tch,” Tsuyoshi frowned back at him, “You are like Reborn. You only see the half of him that is hungry for steel and blood and adrenaline. You are blind to who my son really is.”

“He likes baseball, cares for his friends and wields a sword like an extension of his own arm,” Squalo said, perhaps quicker than he should have. The idea of having his own student at so young an age, and one so promising as Takeshi, was as heady as the wine he drank.

“He is still just a boy. His body may not be fragile because he is a ghoul, but his mind is still developing, still impulsive.” Tsuyoshi shook his head as if Squalo simply did not understand. “You saw it fracture right in front of your eyes and still think that the best thing for him is to teach him how better to cut people apart with his sword? Will you at the same time teach him how to assuage his bloodlust when it rises in his throat? Will you also take into consideration how deeply he depends on others for attention or affection? Praise doled out in backhanded compliments and pain issued out by the handful will only land him on a roof once more-” He abruptly cut himself off, eyes closing tightly. He shook his head again and muttered, “You do not know my son. You do not know what you are going to turn him into, with talk like that. _Teach him._ As if someone like you could care for Takeshi properly.”

“As a guardian-”

“Tsunayoshi did not win those ring battles,” Tsuyoshi interrupted him. “He is not the heir to the Vongola. Takeshi may stay his friend but without that organization dragging his friend down, there is no reason for him to fall down that hole.” He turned back to his work. His movements were quick, sharp, as he packaged the last of the slices and put them into the fridge.

“He’s good. He’s already amazing with the sword. I’ll just teach him how to use it even better, so that no one-”

“Being untouchable is fine for an assassin.” Tsuyoshi interrupted gain. Squalo bit the inside of his cheek not to snap at the man, but only because he was washing the knife now, actions clearly automatic. “Being untouchable will drive my son to suicide again.”

“Wh-” Squalo is momentarily speechless. His mind throws memories to the forefront like reels of tape projected onto a screen and he sees Takeshi’s grief stricken expression, mouth open in his violent threats, tears pouring down his cheeks and his features contorted in abject pain. On the one hand, both he and the other guardians had reacted violently. On the other hand… “Drive him to suicide?” He repeated.

Tsuyoshi sighed. He rested his hand on the counter, leaning his weight into it. It was if he aged a decade with that sigh alone, the lines on his face deepening as he spoke. “He is doing much better now that he has Tsunayoshi in his life as a friend, but for a while… There was only baseball. Not even a Hunt got him as worked up as that game did. And he was good, incredibly good, at playing.

“He was always better than the other boys on his team, but then they began to get better and pressure was put on him to succeed. Not necessarily from the other boys but from their coach and the captain. He had to do twice as well as the next best student if he were to get even a tenth of the praise. Baseball was the only thing that mattered to him. And then… during a Hunt…” The man closed his eyes and his shoulders sagged. “His arm was shattered. Even for a ghoul that takes time to heal properly. He was benched the whole time, couldn’t practice, wasn’t included. It was as if… As if my son were a paper lantern and someone had blown out the flame within him. Takeshi was a shell…”

He stood silently for a while, fingers curled over the side of the counter, his face turned slightly away. Squalo drained his cup and when he could manage it, he asked, “Why are you telling me this? I know he thinks that we’re… whatever we are, but isn’t this rather… personal?”

“Takeshi will never say a thing,” Tsuyoshi said. “When he dies, I suspect it will be with a smile, his last words being ‘no, really, it’s nothing serious’.” He looked up at Squalo, his dark eyes as hard as stone. “He is so much like his mother that he buries his pain until even he cannot sense it anymore. And then, all at once, he’ll be at the end of his rope and without anyone to catch his hand, he will die. She walked into traffic. He nearly stepped off a roof. He may look like me, but he is his mother’s son in all the ways that really matter.”

The words settle uncomfortably around Squalo. He can’t imagine a ghoul being so despondent- so _human-_ as to do such a thing.

But if he were to think of Takeshi as a typical teenager…

“So you’re saying,” Squalo said, carefully, “That if I want to teach Takeshi how to master the blade, to really master the sword, I have to, what, be there to catch him if he falls again?”

“When,” the man said, quiet but insistent. “When he falls again.”

Squalo’s hand tightens on the glass. He looks at it, at the pool of wine at the bottom, just a few drops really. His mouth feels dry yet again. Drink as much as he likes, it never gets any moisture in it.

The thought of Takeshi’s eyes, devoid of life (such an easy thing to imagine, considering how many times he has seen it in his profession), turns Squalo’s stomach.

His expression must shift because Tsuyoshi suddenly pushes off the counter, speaking as he crosses the room. “Date him as long as you like, but do not consider teaching him if you are not prepared to be responsible for the consequences of your actions. You are too experienced to be so reckless. I will not tolerate it.” He stopped in the doorway to the kitchen and added, “When you return to your room, please turn off the light. Goodnight, Superbi.”

Squalo makes a sound in reply, instinctively saying goodnight even as the warning prickles his skin. He reaches up with one hand, pouring another glass.

The counters are cleaned again. The radio turned off. Squalo finishes the bottle by himself, in silence, and then goes to his provided room in the darkness.

As he passes Takeshi’s room, Squalo stops and listens to the sound of him breathing, snoring softly and wonders.

His right hand has already been given away to Xanxus. His left he gave to his mastery of the sword and the defeat of Tyr. With both hands full… how could he agree to keep one open to catch Takeshi if he should fall?

His fingertips brush the wood and then, resolutely, he continues on to his room to finally get some sleep and get foolish thoughts from his mind.

_I will simply prevent him from running out of rope to keep him from ever falling at all. If that is what I can do, all I can do, I will do it for him._

 

* * *

 

Xanxus woke to near-darkness, in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room. His hand was under the pillow in seconds, curling around his gun, but stopped when his eyes adjusted to the dim light. The room was barely illuminated by a small blueish nightlight in the corner. He hadn’t noticed it until he was in bed and by then hadn’t given enough of a shit to get up and unplug it.

Someone was walking towards the bed. The blue light caught on pale skin and silver hair and- That was the kid from before at the table. He walked up to the bed and Xanxus could see he had only one eye open, and that one barely halfway. Letting go of his gun, Xanxus pushed himself up onto an elbow. “What the fuck are you doing here? Go sleep on the couch.”

The boy muttered something and climbed onto the bed. Xanxus reached up to shove him off when he finally caught what was being said.

“...Sorry Tenth… Sorry Tsuna… but the...the nightmares…” Gokudera sat on the bed, his hands covering his eyes and forehead, his fingers tangled in his bangs. He was half curled over, shaking and mumbling apologies.

“Fuck,” Xanxus grunted. _What is the deal with silver haired fuckers and their goddamn nightmares? Fucking Squalo better at least get some goddamn sleep tonight._ He reached out and put his arm around the teen’s shoulders. “Kid, lay down.”

“Sorry,” Gokudera repeated, but he obeyed. Xanxus pulled back the covers and settled him on the bed. He ran his hand over his own face and then, sighing, lay back down. The bed was way too small to fit the two of them comfortably, but what was done was done. He tucked his arm under the pillow, and rolled his eyes when he felt Gokudera’s head rest on his shoulder.

His hair, similar in color to Squalo’s was a completely different texture. _Squalo probably takes better care of his,_ Xanxus thought as Gokudera curled up at his side. _Who the fuck knows what gunpowder does to hair._

“Sorry,” Gokudera said again, his breath stirring against Xanxus’s collarbone.

“Shut up and go to sleep,” Xanxus muttered.

Thankfully, there wasn’t any protest to that, just the sound of breathing. As Gokudera’s breath evened out into proper sleep, Xanxus let himself relax enough to fall back asleep again. _When was the last time I just slept with someone in the same bed?_ Xanxus wondered as he, too, began to nod off. _Must have been a couple of years at least… Damn brat… Damn nightmares…_

_What a fucked up situation…_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (my beta said this chapter was very full of the gay. im sorry, ive been reading a lot of fluffy weird silly stuff recently. but really im not sorry at all. enjoy this while it lasts. Eventually (soon) Iemitsu and the Vongola will show up and that'll be a whole other thing)


	9. Those We Hold In Our Hands

“Ah! Squalo!” 

Looking up, Squalo blinked in surprise. The front room was well lit, sunlight streaming in through the windows, and Takeshi bound across it as lightly as a deer. The boy was dressed in casual clothes, a loose t-shirt with some broken English on it and a baseball cap carelessly resting on his head. He grinned, popping up to stand right in front of Squalo. “Good morning! You look nice today.”

Squalo looked down at his own borrowed clothes- a simple white shirt and pants with his own jacket from before. Tsuyoshi was only a few inches shorter than he was, but had broader shoulders. Luckily, the clothing fit him well enough to suffice until he was allowed back to his hotel room. Squalo turned his glare to Takeshi. “It’s your fault I’m in this get up,” he snapped, “If you hadn’t snapped yesterday we could have gone and gotten my actual clothing from the hotel.” 

Takeshi’s smile didn’t so much as flicker. He simply laughed and rubbed at the back of his head, “Sorry, sorry. But we can go get your things today! I’m sure you’ll enjoy staying in Namimori more when you have your stuff!” 

“Staying in Namimori?” Squalo repeated. He seemed to be doing a lot of that with the Yamamotos. “Wait, what?” 

“Takeshi!” Tsuyoshi called from the kitchen. “No dawdling! Kyoko-chan is expecting you two in fifteen minutes!” He came walking out, a large paper bag in his hands. “Here, take this with you.”

“Okay, Dad,” Takeshi bounced over and took it. He hefted it against his side, adjusting the strap of his weapon across his back. Squalo was momentarily distracted by the sight of the sword. He hadn’t noticed it when Takeshi appeared. Did the boy expect trouble today? 

“Superbi,” Tsuyoshi said, “There’s breakfast at the Sawada house, where Kyoko is watching over your boss and Hayato. I’m sorry for not having any human food for you this morning. It’s generally only something I keep in the restaurant.”

Squalo shook his head, “It’s fine.” There were more important concerns than food anyway, “Takeshi said something about staying in Namimori?” 

Tsuyoshi smiled, “Don’t worry too much about that now. We can discuss that once you’ve met up with your boss again and I’ve had  a discussion with Atsuko and Chikai.” He paused and then explained, “Ah, Atsuko is Ryouhei’s mother and Chikai is Kyoya’s mother. You see, all this rings and inheritance business has been a bit, ah, messier than we originally thought.”

Squalo felt his stomach clench. ‘Messier’ was one way to describe what had happened the night before. “Right.” He said flatly. He really needed to get in touch with Xanxus. It was easy to forget how unsettling Namimori was- at least until he started talking to someone who lived here.

Takeshi took him by the hand, the right one, and tugged him towards the door. “C’mon! Once we go pick up Gokudera we can go see Tsuna at the hospital!” 

“Okay,  _ okay,”  _ Squalo grunted. He tried to tug his hand free but Takeshi simply tightened his grip. Narrowing his gaze he muttered, “Fine. Let’s go.”

“Bye, Dad!” Takeshi shouted as he headed out the front door. Squalo sighed and let himself be led away. 

The morning was cool. Autumn was in full swing and it showed from the changing colors of the leaves to the scarves that people wore around their throats. Takeshi’s hand was warm, his fingers and palm calloused in unfamiliar ways as he held Squalo’s hand. Squalo had his other hand shoved into his pocket to keep it warm. Out of the corner of his eye, he kept seeing people staring at them. 

As they walked, they passed some kids in uniforms going the other way. One of the boys called out to Takeshi, “Hey! School’s the other way around, Yamamoto!” 

“I’m not going today,” Takeshi said back, grinning. “Tell the teacher I’m sorry, okay?”

“You can’t skip school to go on a date,” came the reply. “Who is that guy anyway? I’ve never seen him around here before!” In moments, students began to cluster around them. Takeshi stopped and even Squalo’s tugging on his hand wouldn’t budge him. 

“I’m not skipping for a date!” Takeshi laughed. “I’m going to pick up Gokudera so we can go see Tsuna together.”

“Ooo,” a female student said, “Yamamoto, you’re gonna get in trouble with Hibari-san! He’s going to drag you back to school if you skip!” 

“Yeah, maybe!” Takeshi shrugged. “I’m not worried though. Hibari probably needs some stress relief anyway!” 

“Eh? What happened?” someone asked. 

“Does it have to do with the school yard?” asked another kid, “My mom said she saw it was messed up on her hunt last night!”

“Whaat? Who messed up the yard!” 

“Hibari-san is gonna be so pissed!”

“Aw man, he’s really gonna be upset today!”

Takeshi laughed. 

“Takeshi,” Squalo said, tightening his grip. The hair on the back of his arms was standing on end. It was sinking in, now, really sinking in, that Namimori was full of ghouls. There were at least fifteen kids around him now. Including Takeshi at his side, how many of them were ghouls? 

He was glad he hadn’t eaten yet that morning. His stomach churned like he could throw up at any second. “Let’s go. We’re going to be late.”

“Huh? Oh! Right. Sorry.” Takeshi beamed at him. “Bye everyone. Squalo and I have to go!” He pulled Squalo through the crowd. Squalo kept close to his side, ignoring the way his heart hammered in his chest and his metal hand itched to pull out his sword. They were just curious children, even if there were ghouls among them. He wasn’t in danger. He wasn’t being threatened. He had to remember that, couldn’t forget it.

“Wait, you didn’t tell us anything about him!” 

“He’s my boyfriend!” Takeshi called over his shoulder, “There’s nothing else to know!” 

“Yamamoto!” The students cried in disappointment. “You better tell us more later!”

When they were well away from the crowd, Squalo looked at Takeshi only to see the boy rolling his eyes. “They think they should know everything about my life,” he said, still smiling, but with a faint bitterness to his words, “Who I date, how I did on my tests, what I do over the weekend, when I’m training for baseball, where I go hunting… They ask and ask and ask the same questions over and over, but they never really listen.”

His gaze was sharp as he looked up at Squalo. The lip of his hat shadowed his face ominously, “Were you popular like that in school, Squalo? Did people want to know everything about you but never cared to actually know  _ you?”  _

“No.” Squalo said, “At my school, if you were popular you usually ended up with a literal knife in your back before too long. I would rather do the stabbing than be stabbed.”

“Huh.” Takeshi blinked. “But you’re really pretty. I figured you would have been popular too.”

“I had no need for friends,” Squalo replied. “I made contacts with other students, but besides Xanxus there really wasn’t anyone I trusted.”

“Why did you start trusting Xanxus?” Takeshi asked innocently.

Squalo looked away. The words were a heavy weight on his tongue. That sick feeling only grew worse in his gut. They came to a stop at a street corner where the crosswalk sign was red, telling them to wait. Squalo took a shaky breath and let it out slowly. 

Takeshi’s hand was warm in his. Their fingers were tangled together. The last time that Squalo had held someone’s hand like this was years ago, with Xanxus. It had been on the streets of a city like this one, but in the dead of night and they had been running and breathless. 

In silence, Takeshi waited at his side, watching his face with those surprisingly observant eyes. As the light changed and they walked across, Squalo worked his tongue in his mouth, considering his words carefully. 

“He helped me,” Squalo explained quietly. Despite the bright morning, the air was somber between them. Takeshi had stopped smiling and, somehow, that was more disquieting than anything else he could have done. Squalo kept his eyes straight ahead as he spoke. He didn’t want to see what expression the boy wore. “I… suffered a great loss. Very suddenly. He saw me acting oddly afterwards and even though we barely knew each other at the time, he asked what was wrong. When I told him… he offered to help. 

“The two of us… We went hunting. Without him there, I probably would have died during the hunt. I wasn’t strong enough on my own but with Xanxus I was.” Squalo took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His emotions coiled and uncoiled in his chest, aching and pulling in odd ways. “I’ve been at his side ever since.”

“So,” Takeshi said thoughtfully. “You and Xanxus are pack. I mean, you’re not ghouls so it’s not exactly the same, but it’s similar. Right? You bonded over a hunt, a bloodfeast. That’s what a pack does.” He smiled, small and strange, his eyes distant when Squalo glanced to him, “I did that with Tsuna to join his pack with Hibari.”

The word  _ bloodfeast  _ sticks in Squalo’s mind like a fly caught in a spider’s web. When he thinks of that night _ (where rain had pelted their backs as they tracked a monster through the tiny alleys of his hometown, where they had hunted with a single purpose split between two minds, where the clouds had parted just as the moon rose and they had found their prey, where they had left, hand in hand, slick with blood that was not their own) _ bloodfeast seems to fit it exactly. Squalo could almost taste the heavy, iron-sour flavor of ghoul blood in his mouth again. It had been on everything, his clothes, his sword, his face. It had splattered his lips and when he had licked them that unique tang had imprinted itself in his mind.

“A bloodfeast,” he murmured. “What a concept…”

Takeshi leans against his side suddenly, eyes bright as he looked up at Squalo. “It’s when you share a kill, the first kill of your pack. You kill together. You eat together. No one is more or less than another member of the pack.” He grinned, though it looked more like he was baring his teeth than anything. “It’s good that you understand. I want you to be part of my pack, Squalo. I like you.”

_ Will you at the same time teach him how to assuage his bloodlust when it rises in his throat? _

Squalo felt a bit like he was drowning as he looked at Takeshi. His eyes seemed golden, as inhuman and feral as a wolf’s. He could clearly remember seeing the young man coated in blood- a shark’s blood but still- and how it had only made the nightmare of facing a ghoul in battle all the more real. After all, hunting a ghoul without the right kind of weaponry was difficult even under prime conditions. 

“Takeshi,” he began, not knowing where his words would take him. All he could see was Takeshi’s bloody face, goggles and mask and red, red kagune curling in the air around him, overlaid that rainy night in Italy. 

Tilting his head to the side, Takeshi smiled at him. Again, Squalo heard Tsuyoshi’s words in his head.

_ Will you also take into consideration how deeply he depends on others for attention or affection? _

“You barely know me,” he ended up saying. Takeshi’s smile faltered a little bit. “I barely know you-”

“I  _ really  _ like you,” Takeshi insisted. He tugged on Squalo’s hand. It would have off balanced him, but he quickly adjusted his footing so he was simply closer and not toppling. “Don’t you understand that? We can learn more about each other, that’s what dating is for-”

“Look,” Squalo turned to face him directly, forcing him to stop walking. He put his free hand on Takeshi’s chest so the boy would have to stop and listen. His other hand was still held tightly but he didn’t want to let go either. “Fuck, I don’t know how it came to this but you need to listen to me right now. Okay? Just… listen to me for a second.”

Takeshi nodded silently. His gaze was intent, boring into Squalo. The paper bag crinkled as he adjusted his grip on it but he didn’t move away. 

“There are a lot of problems with us dating,” is what Squalo said. “You’re a minor. You’re a ghoul. I’m an assassin. I’m affiliated with anti-ghoul people. I don’t do well around ghouls in general and I certainly don’t do well with aggressive ones. Plus, you live in Japan and I live in Italy. Long distance isn’t really my thing, either.” 

Takeshi opened his mouth and Squalo thumped him lightly with his palm. “No. Quiet. Just listen to me.” He frowned at the young man, who nodded again. “The whole situation here is difficult and fucked up. There’s the Vongola heir business and the fact that Reborn probably went to Nono and told him everything. Sawada’s dad is still Xanxus’s target and he and I and the rest of the Varia guardians are stuck her in Namimori, apparently. These are like, the worst conditions to getting to know each other or start dating. This is the kind of fucking situation where you start liking someone because of stress bonding and emotional or hormonal bullshit. It’s like an adrenaline fuck after a fight or successful hit or something. 

“I don’t want you to get caught up thinking you like me when it’s the thrill of battle making you eager for my company, Takeshi. I don’t want you to pursue me lightly.” 

“It isn’t lightly,” Takeshi leaned in, pressing against Squalo’s hand. “It isn’t! I swear.” 

Squalo continued as if he hadn’t said anything, “Because what I want from you is serious.”

“What…” Takeshi’s eyes widened, “What do you want from me?”

Squalo felt a smile pulling at his lips and let it. “I want to see you become the best swordsman in the world. Undefeatable. Untouchable. Unstoppable. You have incredible talent and I have so much I could teach you. But that kind of training, that kind of ability? It won’t come quickly or easily, but it would absolutely be worth the effort.” 

Confusion clouded he teenager’s expression. “What?”

“Let me train you,” Squalo said. “Let me be the one who guides you to your perfected sword style.”

“But-”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Squalo said quickly, “I want to date you too. Right now, when I look at you, I see so much raw potential.” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “It’s attractive but it’s also terrifying. I can’t forget you are a ghoul, Takeshi, and that is going to take time for me to move past. I’m not ready to become part of your pack, not yet, but I want to be. Someday.”

Takeshi squinted at him. “You’re not… You’re not rejecting me, right?”

“I am not rejecting you,” Squalo told him seriously. “I’m telling you that I need some time to adjust. Things are happening very quickly and right now I need to focus on surviving this situation. Then I can focus on you instead.”

“Focus on me instead,” Takeshi repeated. He blinked, eyes widening, a blush creeping across his cheeks. “You mean… romantically?”

Squalo licked his lips. He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake with this… “Yes. That’s what I mean.”

“And until then? What are we? What can we do?” With his hand on Takeshi’s chest, Squalo could feel him vibrate with excitement. 

“We can do things like this,” Squalo said, squeezing Takeshi’s hand. “Walk together. Talk together. I’ll train you with the sword. We’ll get to know each other a little more.”

“Are we still boyfriends?” Takeshi asked, his voice softer than before. His gaze was all hope. Squalo felt his heart melt just a little. 

He bit his lip to keep from smiling stupidly at that puppy-eyed look. “Yes. Fine. We are.”

Takeshi grinned at him. 

Squalo rolled his eyes and finally stepped away. He felt his own cheeks heating up under the force of Takeshi’s bright expression. “Don’t get carried away,” he muttered, “I’m going to be running you hard with your training. You’re going to become the best, Takeshi. The best in the whole world.” 

Beaming, Takeshi agreed happily. 

“Now, c’mon,” Squalo tugged on his hand, “I’m starving and we’re going to be late meeting up with the others. Take me to Sawada’s house.”

“Yes, of course!” Takeshi led him away, swinging their joined hands and ignoring Squalo’s exasperated sigh. 

His heart was still pounding and he still noticed everyone that passed them by, but Squalo felt calmer. A little. Maybe. Still, he’d feel better when he was with Xanxus again and could be sure his boss and best friend was safe. 

 

* * *

 

The morning is cool, but Hayato is comfortable as he sits out on the front porch of Tsuna’s house, waiting. He’s got a cigarette held between the fingers of one hand while his other is held out for Xanxus to look at. “And this one,” he said about the ring on his left pinky, “has a band around the middle with a texture to it. Feel that? It’s rough like brick almost. I picked that up in a pawn shop in some alley in, shit, I can’t remember the town. Anyway, you get those strike anywhere matches and they’ll ignite on that.” 

Xanxus’s is holding his hand in both of his own, which really, Hayato knows should be weird and awkward and kind of embarrassing but he woke up drooling on the man’s shoulder. One can only go up from there. Xanxus has half a cigarette hanging from his own lips, the ember burning away steadily and the smoke rising from the corner of his mouth. “Damn, that’s pretty decent,” he said. “I thought you just used a lighter for all your shit.” 

“Lighters can run out at the worst times,” Hayato said, “And they get confiscated too, but you can tuck the stick of a match behind an ear or in a pocket for emergencies, you know?” 

Xanxus taps the ring on his index finger on the same hand, “What about this one? Anything special here?” 

“My sister left me that one,” he admitted, smiling fondly at the heavy band with the faded scorpion impressed on the side. “She said to only use it in emergencies.” He took a drag from his smoke and laughed bitterly, “Did you know? She was called the Poison Scorpion. Everything she cooked turned deadly in her hands. Even a fucking sandwich, Xanxus. She killed one of her first boyfriends after he told her to go to the kitchen and make her a goddamn sandwich and she did.” 

“Hell,” Xanxus muttered, “You mean Poison Scorpion Bianchi? That was your sister?” 

“Half,” Hayato said. “Same father, different mothers.” 

“Yeah, I know that shit,” Xanxus nods. He runs his finger absently over Hayato’s rings and Hayato tries not to stare at the way smoke escapes his mouth. He really does try. “I’ve got the same thing going on with me and my brothers.” He laughs and it’s an echo of Hayato’s own bitter voice. 

Hayato tries not to sink even further in his sympathy for this man, but it’s hard, so hard not to. His fingers reflexively grip Xanxus’s hand to comfort him. To his surprise, Xanxus doesn’t shake him off. 

“I miss her,” he said suddenly. “Bianchi,” he clarifies, “And my mom too, I guess. I mean. I barely saw her, barely knew her, before she died.”

Xanxus looks away from him. Draws from his cigarette with a deep breath and lets it out, long and slow. The smoke rises like a misty vapor and the scent of nicotine curls around them both. “Yeah. My brothers weren’t always the best family but they were family. And if they were still around, I wouldn’t mind it so much.” 

_ None of us would be in this situation if they were still alive,  _ Hayato thought but didn’t say.  _ You would have never come to Namimori. Tsuna would have never gotten hurt.  _

He closes his eyes, realizing that  _ he  _ would have never been taken to Namimori either, had Xanxus’s brothers still been alive. Reborn had brought him here, after all. Had taken him off the streets and out of the shitty not-quite-legitimate mafia family that he’d been on the outskirts off and brought him here. He shudders against the thought, remembering the anxiety, the stress, the horror that had been his life two years ago. 

Xanxus grips his hand tightly, briefly and Hayato blinks, looking up at him. The man has turned towards him again, and gestures to the feathers bound up in his hair with fingers and lit cigarette, “See these?” 

Hayato nods. Smoke burns his lungs with his next inhale, but it’s a comforting sensation and he’s polite enough to turn his head tolet it out as Xanxus explains why he’s pointing out the accessory. “My mother gave me the first one, years ago,” He talks slowly, as if he’s not quite sure what is prompting him to speak but hasn’t yet thought of a reason to stop. “I grew up wild, always underfoot and where I shouldn’t be. She took the feather from, well, fuck if I know, but she found it and attached it to some string and tied it into my hair.” 

Turning his gaze away, Xanxus continues quietly, as if talking to himself more than Hayato, “She said something about… remembering to fly the surest way, the way I was meant to go, and not to follow along a tether. She was pretty sick in those days, it was right before we found Timoteo actually, and wasn’t always lucid.” He gestured with a hand, smoke curling after the ember, following the movement like an afterimage.

“I remember, distinctly, the last words she spoke to me before she left me with my father. She said that no eaglet ever learned to fly in the shadow of it’s father’s wing.” Xanxus shook his head. “It was the most fucking confusing advice, because she was sending me to live with him. He was going to fucking raise me up in his house, with my half-brothers, with his whole famiglia around him, and here she was, letting me go and at the same time telling me what, not to follow in his footsteps?” 

Hayato said nothing. He didn’t know what to say, really. Watching Xanxus talk was … different. He hadn’t really seen anyone else from Italy in over a year. Well, there was Reborn but he didn’t count. The baby had been a sadistic bastard who preferred to withhold information for the sheer pleasure in confusing others than sit down and have a heart to heart conversation. Because really there was no other description for what the hell was going on now. It was weird and, honestly, Hayato liked it. He really did. 

Xanxus’s hand was warm and his words resonated. Hayato would have been more suspicious if not for the fact that Xanxus hardly seemed concerned with his reaction to anything. He was preoccupied with his own thoughts, it seemed. 

“I couldn’t forget them because they were so fucking weird,” Xanxus said, “And they would crop up at the strangest times. Whenever Timoteo did something or asked me to do something that unsettled me, I would remember what she said and do what I thought best.” 

Suddenly, he grinned. He turned abruptly to Hayato and showed off the feathers with the sharp motion of his head. They flared slightly, and at the same time Hayato saw the bandage on his earlobe, the white gauze showing signs of blood seepage. “Every time I followed her words, I added a feather. Eventually, I had so many I could trade them in and out depending on color or mood. It’s the shittiest thing and she’d probably call me birdhead and smack me upside head for it as she laughed, but, hell, that’s only more of an incentive.”

“Your mom,” Hayato asked, “Is she…?”

“Yeah. Long gone. Buried up on a hill near the sea, though she never went when she was alive.” Xanxus looks vaguely nostalgic for a moment before he rolls his eyes, “C’mon kid, don’t fucking cry on me again. There isn’t a point in crying for the dead. They’re not here to benefit from anyone’s sympathy.” He reaches over with his empty hand, thumbing Hayato’s cheek.

Flushing, he pulls the handkerchief out from his pocket and wipes at his own face. “Shut the fuck up,” Hayato grumbled, “I’m not fucking crying.”

“Sure, brat. You just got some fucking dust in your eye.” Xanxus laughed at him. “Don’t lie to me, you’re trash at it. I can see right through you.”

Hayato’s whole face burns with that statement. Those orange eyes slice through him, even as Xanxus looks at him in amusement more than anything. He ducks his chin and turns his head, but his grip on Xanxus’s hand tightens. 

“VOI!” A sharp voice cuts through the air like a sword. “What the fuck is going on here?”

Hayato jerks his gaze up to see Yamamoto approaching with Squalo. They’re hand in hand, Yamamoto carrying a brown paper bag in his free arm and Squalo inexplicably wearing a baseball cap. “Hey Gokudera!” Yamamoto called, “Were you guys waiting a long time?”

Xanxus pulls his hand free from Hayato’s as he stands up. He drops his cigarette to the ground and crushes it under his heel, “Where the fuck have you two been? We have shit to do.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Squalo snaps. He crosses the yard briskly. Hayato can see him tugging his arm, the one where he’s holding Yamamoto’s hand, but it won’t come free. Yamamoto is just smiling like the absolute idiot that he was. “I was told there was breakfast?”

“Yeah, the girl made some earlier. Go grab something quick.” Xanxus jerks his thumb towards the front door. “Did they give you back your phone?” 

“Fuck no,” Squalo said, “The shitty cloud guardian has it still.”

“Hibari will be at the hospital with Tsuna,” Yamamoto said with complete confidence. “If you want your phones back you can talk to him there.” 

“Good.” Squalo and Xanxus say simultaneously. They then glare at each other. Yamamoto finally lets go of his hand to reach into the paper bag. He pulls out a plastic container and gives it to Squalo.

“Here, Kyoko-chan’s probably inside still. This is for her. Tell her it’s from my dad.” He beamed at Squalo, who took the box with a huff and stomped past Hayato and Xanxus into the house. 

“What’s that?” Hayato asks, pointing to the bag. He has a feeling that its-

“Ghoul food,” Yamamoto confirms. “I’m delivering most of this to the pack at the hospital. It’s the parts from Hibari’s hunt last night.”

“Hibari’s… When did he have time to go hunting?” Hayato frowned. “He was-” Stopping abruptly, Hayato remembers the image of Hibari kneeling on top of a broken robot. That’s right. He had ripped it open, stuck his head inside and- The blood drains from Hayato’s face, a surefire way to remove any last traces of his blush, as he stares at the paper bag in Yamamoto’s arms. “Oh.”

Xanxus frowns, looks at the bag, looks back at him and-

“Gola Mosca,” Hayato explained. “There was someone in it. Right? Hibari ripped it open and killed them?”

Xanxus’s hand lifts to the holster at his side- they took the Varia’s phones but left them their weapons, and if that didn’t show Hibari’s priorities and concerns from the night before, Hayato wasn’t sure what would- but he doesn’t draw his weapon. 

“Right,” Yamamoto said. “My dad and some others took care of the butchery last night. The portions are being divvied out accordingly. Kyoko-chan gets some for her help and the rest is going to those at the hospital.”

“Fuck,” Xanxus whispered, “All right. I suppose letting a body go to waste is… against the rules?”

Yamamoto smiled. 

Hayato has the strongest urge to reach out and grab Xanxus by the hand again. He doesn’t, but only because he twists his fingers around the silken handkerchief so tightly his fingertips go numb. Xanxus rubs at his forehead like he’s got a headache coming on and turns away from them both. 

Glaring at the other teen, Hayato declared, “You’re a fucking idiot, Yamamoto.”

But he only kept smiling and Hayato didn’t feel any better. 

He really hoped that Tsuna would make it through okay. Yamamoto was even weirder than normal without him around. Tsuna had to be okay. Otherwise… Otherwise…

Hayato stared down at his hands. The monogram on the silk was done in orange, the color of sky flames. He closed his eyes. If he couldn’t trust in the life of his own sky, could he at least trust in Xanxus’s words? The man had said he would do what he could. 

Thinking of the feathers Xanxus wore, the words his mother had spoken to him, Hayato clung to that not-a-promise. Everything would work out. Everything would work out.

It had to. It had to.

Hayato had nothing else in his life, if it didn’t.

 

* * *

 

Of several things, Kyoya was absolutely certain.

The first of these things was that his mother could handle any situation at any time with complete and utter poise. 

This was proven by the way she swept into the hospital with every hair in place, her expression showing only the faintest line of worry in the corners of her eyes and the sweet air of concentrated authority curling around her like her faintly floral perfume. Kyoya noticed her instantly, rising to his feet without a second thought. Upon entering the building, she stopped, considered her surroundings and removed her jacket. She held it out and the escort on her right stepped forward and took the garment without a whisper. 

The woman stepped back again, falling in line with her counterpart, another woman with a matching suit on and a matching short haircut. His mother’s bright red jacket stood out in sharp contrast to the black of her suit, but the color was the same shade as the tie the woman wore.

Chikai spotted Kyoya and gave a small smile. Once acknowledged, he stepped forward to greet her with a bow. “Mother.”

“Son,” Chikai spoke warmly. Then her eyes fell on his arm, held in its sling, and her smile slipped away like ice melting under the sun. “You did not inform me of your injury.” 

Stiffly, Kyoya turned his wounded side away from her, even though she had already seen it. “It is stabilized and healing. Ryouhei and the Italian Sun Guardian both administered first aid on me at the location as I said.” 

She narrowed her eyes and Kyoya held perfectly still, chin lifted, eyes on her face but not meeting her gaze. In silence, she evaluated him. Abruptly, she nodded and stepped forward. Cupping his cheek with her hand, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to his other cheek. “I am glad to see you are recovering from this trial. You certainly have grown, my son.” There was a lightness in her eyes and Kyoya braced himself for her next words. 

“On my way here, Fon confirmed your request with me. He is on his way to fulfill his duty.” She smiled, clearly pleased, “I told him that once he has completed it, it would be a pleasure to see him here in Namimori once more.”

Kyoya grit his teeth together. 

The second thing he was certain of was that Fon was far more trouble than he was worth. He had not seen the man-turned-baby in several years. He could have gone several more without seeing him. But- “If that is his reward for his actions, I will tolerate it.” 

Chikai’s eyes crinkled with her smile, “You truly have grown. I am pleased.”

He turned away, unwilling to endure her praise for too long lest he reveal just how those words affected him. “Mama is with Tsuna now. Atsuko-san is also here with Ryouhei. Which of the two would you like to see first?” 

“Nana,” she said.

He nodded.

The third thing that he was certain of was where his mother’s affections lay. First and foremost was him, as her son and heir. Secondly was her brother, the irritating and ever transient Fon. Third was her pack and primary in that concern was Sawada Nana. For ten years those priorities had not changed and he doubted they ever would change. 

Grimly, he thought of Iemitsu’s inevitable return in the aftermath of these ring battles. Chikai had always had little patience for the man but in light of recent events, he hoped that patience would turn into the same hatred he felt towards the man. His mother had been away the last time the oaf of a human had returned to Namimori. Kyoya had been the one to endure Tsuna’s resulting insecurity and witness Mama’s emotional turmoil. 

The bitterness that Iemitsu left in his wake had scratched Kyoya’s nerves raw. Multiple times he had considered attempting to try and convince Mama to turn over his body for punishment. When he was around, Kyoya wanted nothing more than to bite him to death, both with tonfa and his actual teeth. 

Kyoya exhaled his bloodlust slowly. He stopped at the correct hospital door and knocked, once. “Mama?” He called, “My mother is here to visit with you.” 

After a moment, the door opened. The room beyond was lit with sunlight more than overhead light. The window curtains had been pulled back to allow for the morning light to enter and arm the room. Mama stood in the doorway, lit up from behind, still wearing that bloodstained pink sweater of hers with wide eyes red from her crying. She didn’t even see him, saw only Chikai, and stumbled out into the hallway with tears afresh.  _ “Chikai,”  _ she sobbed, embracing his mother. 

Kyoya stepped neatly out of the way. Chikai met his gaze over Mama’s shoulder and he nodded. As she took the weeping woman away to comfort, Kyoya slipped into the hospital room and closed the door behind himself. 

Tsuna lay in the bed, unmoving. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor machine told Kyoya his heart was still functioning. Even from the other side of the room, Kyoya could see the slight fogging of Tsuna’s breath on the plastic mask over his mouth and nose. For a long minute, he simply stared at Tsuna on the bed, silent, watching.

It had been hours since the fight. He had been given blood and nutrients. Kyoya had spent the night in the hospital himself. He had been there when the doctors had informed Mama that the organs had regrown properly.

And yet. Tsuna slept on.

Crossing the room, Kyoya took the seat that Mama must have been in, a chair drawn up close to the bed. Tsuna looked pale against those white sheets and his hair was spattered with dried blood. The doctors had cleaned it up from the rest of his body, but the flecks there had been unnoticed. He reached out with his good hand, his left still in its sling at his side, and picked the blood out. 

Tsuna was warm. Kyoya briefly wondered if he’d been dead long enough for his body to start cooling and then immediately regretted that. His heart lurched in his chest, his lungs straining for a proper breath. He ran his fingers through Tsuna’s hair, brushing it away from his face, feeling the warmth of him, the texture of the locks. 

“Sawada,” He whispered,  _ “Tsuna.”  _

He trailed his fingertips down Tsuna’s cheek and then, slowly withdrew his hand entirely. What if he never woke? What if he never saw Tsuna’s eyes open and lit with understanding? What if he never saw that smile again? 

Numbly, Kyoya took Tsuna’s hand in his own, fingers interlaced. He squeezed tightly, tight enough that his knuckles were white and Tsuna would have complained about the pain if he had been awake. Tsuna didn’t react.

Even though he had to relax his grip, Kyoya didn’t let go. 

For this was the fourth thing of which he was certain. 

Tsuna was precious to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stage whispers: _"the gay escalates"_


	10. Declaration of Intent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry this one is late, honestly, i was struggling through xanxus and chikai's conversation, but then wrote a oneshot bnha and BAM magically all the rest of it was easy to write. i dont know. i dont understand it. whatever. here it is. enjoy the hell out of it

Outside of the hospital, Hayato felt his nerves tugging at the semblance of calm that he had plastered together with what little peace he had found during his weird as hell morning. His breath came quick as he reached the front door with Takeshi at his side. The baseball idiot was eager, carrying his brown paper bag and bouncing on the balls of his feet as he strode easily in through the automatic doors. Hayato struggled to keep quiet, shoving his hands as fists into his pockets. 

Squalo and Xanxus followed the pair of them, accompanying them to the hospital despite the fact that Xanxus had indicated he wanted to gather up his guardians for a chat. Sasagawa had resolutely forbidden him to stay at the house or to leave to go anywhere but the hospital. Kusakabe had showed up to drive them to the hospital itself, surprising Hayato with the fact that not only did he drive but he had a car. He was the tail end of the group, following the Varia members at a short distance.

Once they hit the lobby, and before they could approach a reception desk, a pair of women in matching suits and matching short haircuts walked up. Takeshi stopped in front of them, Hayato mimicking him. The women bowed briefly. The one on the left said, “Gokudera and Yamamoto, I will escort you to Sawada’s room.”

The one on the right said, “Xanxus and Squalo, I will escort you to Chikai-sama. She would like to have a word with you both.”

Hayato glanced over at the men who shrugged and went with her. He couldn’t help the worry that clawed at his insides, seeing Xanxus walking away. There wasn’t any reason for it, he knew that, knew that Xanxus could take care of himself but still; Hayato worried.

He had to hurry to catch up to Takeshi, having become distracted by Xanxus’s departure. The walk was quiet, although Takeshi’s broad grin was disquieting. The woman said nothing, barely even blinked. Kusakabe, who had joined them, spent most of the time on his phone. They rode several floors up in an elevator before the woman took them to one of the hospital rooms. She stopped outside, hand on the door handle. “Kyoya-sama is inside with Sawada. Please do not crowd him.” 

She slid open the door and Takeshi rushed inside. 

Hayato hesitated but followed him in. 

Quietly, Kusakabe followed and closed the door behind himself.

 

 

 

There was something terrible about the way that Tsuna looked, lying silently in the hospital bed. Hayato was trying to put his finger on it as Takeshi approached the bedside, stopping only to leave the bag of food by the door. He moved slowly now that Tsuna was in his sights again.

Hayato wasn’t sure how he expected Hibari to be waiting inside the room, but sitting on the side of the bed with one leg tucked up under himself and Tsuna’s hand in his lap wasn’t it. Hibari looked up at them for a moment, his eyes dark, his face expressionless, before he lowered his gaze back down to the hand he held in both of his own. He sat with his back to Tsuna, which Hayato thought was strange. Wouldn’t he want to see Tsuna’s face? What if Tsuna woke up and-

“Oh. God.” Hayato breathed out the words faintly, his thoughts dropping abruptly as he, too, got close enough to see Tsuna better. 

The only light in the room came in through the windows, which Hayato used an excuse to explain why he hadn’t seen it at first. That and Takeshi had blocked the view as he sidled up to the bed. But now Takeshi was in the chair beside the bed, holding Tsuna’s other hand, and his face was visible again.

Standing at the end of Tsuna’s bed, Hayato saw clearly not only how ashen Tsuna’s face was but how sunken his eyes, how colorless his lips. All of these things only made the blue of his veins stand out even more. They looked like the crawling lines of lightning bolts, but frozen on- or Hayato supposed, under- Tsuna’s skin. It was eerie, seeing the delicate twisting lines of Tsuna’s veins so prominent. 

Moving around Takeshi to get closer, Hayato cautiously reached out a hand and brushed a lock of brown hair off of Tsuna’s forehead. “What… What’s this? What’s wrong with him? Why does he look like this?”

Hibari turned his head slightly, “Kusakabe.” 

The older teen stepped away from the door. He tucked his phone away as he did, “The doctors have examined him fully. They say this kind of appearance is due to damaged blood vessels and circulation issues. They say it isn’t permanent or indicative of any deeper damage.”

“Has he woken up?” Hayato asked, “At all?”

Kusakabe glanced to Hibari, who shook his head slightly. 

“He has to wake up,” Takeshi said, low and fervent. He held Tsuna’s hand tightly in his own. “He has to wake up and explain this to us.” His fingers shook obviously as he ran them up and down Tsuna’s forearm. “C’mon, Tsuna. C’mon. You have to wake up. You didn’t mean to kill yourself, right? It was an accident. You were only playing around, right? Things just got out of hand.”  

“Yamamoto,” Hibari said cooly.

Takeshi didn’t respond to him, only pressed the back of Tsuna’s hand to his cheek, leaning in. “Tsuna, please wake up and come back to us. Come back to me. Tsuna, please. I need you to come back.” 

Hibari twisted around to stare at him, “Don’t pull his arm like that.” 

Takeshi glared at Hibari, reacting to him for the first time, “Leave me alone. You don’t  _ understand.” _

Hayato could clearly see that that was the  _ wrong  _ thing to say. He flinched back as Hibari, with inhuman flexibility, twisted around on the bed to face Takeshi completely. He was braced like that on the balls of his feet and his good hand for only a second, only long enough for Tsuna’s limp hand to slip back onto the sheets before he lunged across the bed. Takeshi snarled as Hibari collided with his chest and sent the two of them toppling over the side of the bed.

Something snapped inside of Hayato when he saw the two teens hit the floor, eyes bloody black and mouths open in audible snarls. He took two steps and swung his leg. The toe of his boot caught Hibari first in the side, just under his ribs. The second kick caught Takeshi in the same place. Both of them turned towards Hayato in the blink of an eye. Luck put him on the same side as Hibari’s injured arm, making him reach over with his right arm. Hibari would have reached him if Takeshi’s elbow to the chest hadn’t gotten in the way. Scrambling backwards, out of reach, Hayato shouted, “If you two can’t maintain even a semblance of civility then get the fuck out of Tsuna’s hospital room! This isn’t the fucking place to roll around on the floor like a couple of goddamn animals!” 

“You-” 

“Don’t even  _ try  _ to argue with me on this one,” Hayato shouted, holding his ground even as he saw Hibari’s body weight shift to make it easier to strike. “It won’t help Tsuna if you two hurt each other. This is a fucking  _ hospital.”  _ He gestured around to the room, “You want to fight? Take it outside.”

Hibari’s silence was as heavy as his gaze. He dragged his head around, glaring at Takeshi. “The roof?”

Takeshi bared his teeth in a grin. They rolled apart and up to their feet in a matter of seconds. Takeshi brushed off his shirt. Hibari plucked his jacket off the bed, where it had fallen after his lunge. He arranged it back on his shoulders and stalked out of the room. He nodded to Kusakabe on his way out. Takeshi gave Tsuna one last, long look before speaking, “Stay with him, Gokudera. Don’t let him out of your sight.” 

“There’s nowhere else I need to be,” Hayato replied, relaxing now that Hibari was out of the room. “Go. We’ll still be here when you’re done.”

Takeshi nodded, but still took another minute before he backed out of the room. Hayato sighed heavily once he was gone. He smoothed down Tsuna’s blankets, lay his hands back at his sides and took the seat by the bed. “It’s okay, Tsuna,” Hayato whispered, taking his hand. “You take as long as you need to recover. We’ll all be here when you wake up again. You don’t have to worry… Xanxus will be the Tenth and he’ll take care of the Vongola problem. Everything will be okay.” 

Tsuna’s hand was warm as Hayato put his over it. “The most important thing is for you to rest. Let us handle everything else.”

 

* * *

 

Xanxus leaned against the wall of the conference room that the woman in a suit had lead him and Squalo to with his arms folded across his chest. The first thing he had done was draw the blinds back to fill the room with natural light and give him a good view over the part of the town they were in. In the daytime, Namimori looked as normal as any other town. People walked up and down the sidewalk. Cars drove up and down the streets. Birds fluttered from place to place like shadowing, quickly shifting clouds. He watched in silence for a while as, below the hospital, some woman walked by with a large dog on a leash and child on her chest.

Squalo paced the room back and forth. His hair fluttered around him when he turned sharply. He still wore that kid’s cap, the brim tucked down to shadow his eyes. Xanxus sighed. 

Abruptly, Squalo stopped and turned towards him, “Boss-”

“Do you suppose that one’s a ghoul, too?” Xanxus asked, cutting off Squalo’s words. His friend’s voice was too brisk, too brittle. Xanxus could tell Squalo was on the edge of, not a panic attack but a tantrum of some sort. It was barely eight in the morning and Xanxus did not have the energy to sooth another tightly wound up idiot. 

“What?” Squalo asked, “You mean that woman in the suit?” Squalo jerked his thumb towards the door. Through the small window, they could see the back of their escort’s head. She was clearly guarding the door. To keep them in or to keep others out, Xanxus wasn’t sure. “She’s definitely one of them.”

Xanxus shook his head. He pointed out the window, to the woman out on the corner now, waiting to cross. “Her.” 

Squalo walked over and peered out the window. “Which?”

“With the dog. Blue leash. Kid on her chest, maybe six, eight months?” 

“Mm,” Squalo murmured. “Good eye as always, Boss.” He stared for a while and then shrugged a shoulder. “I’d have to get closer to tell, I think. I mean, she moves like a regular human but…”

_ But all the ghouls of Namimori move like humans. _ Xanxus watched her sway at the corner, clearly rocking her child. Her hand pat the baby’s back while the other swung at her side. The leash moved like a pendulum, back and forth and back again while her dog sat at her heel, mouth open, tongue lolling. 

“What about that couple there?” Xanxus pointed to an elderly pair walking in the shade of some trees. The leaves were half gone from the branches and littered the ground with spots of brown and faded orange. 

“Seriously, I can’t tell from up here,” Squalo groused even as he shifted his gaze over, squinting at them. He rested his hand on the glass. The brim of his hat made a soft  _ thmp _ noise against the window. “Maybe? I don’t see why old people would be tasty. There might be some sort of age limit to the humans here, so they don’t taste bad. I don’t know.” 

He glanced out of the corner of his eye to Xanxus. “What? Why are you staring at me like that.”

Blinking, Xanxus looked away from him and absently scanned their surroundings. There weren’t any buildings nearby that had a height advantage on the hospital, making it unlikely to find trouble from a rooftop. A sniper might aim up, but they were in western facing room, so any sun was behind them.  _ That, and it’s probably too early for anyone to be sent after us. I probably would have heard something if Timoteo had found out about everything. Maybe Reborn hasn’t reached them yet? Maybe Father forgave me having a ghoul in the Varia?  _

He looked at Squalo in surprise. Squalo held onto his wrist. He slowly drew Xanxus’s hand down from where he fiddled with the feathers at his neck. “Boss… What’s going to happen now? What are you thinking?”

“What,” Xanxus smirked. He tried twisting his arm to get it out of Squalo’s grip, but it was fruitless. “Can’t you read my mind like you usually do and predict what I’m going to say?”

Squalo’s grip tightened. “Everything’s been fucked up and different since my fight with that kid.” He looked away, ducking his chin so the brim of his hat covered his eyes. Xanxus really wanted to flick the thing back and off his head, but Squalo was finally calm and talking about what was going on with him. The last thing Xanxus needed to do was stir him back up so he was agitated during their meeting with this Chikai woman. 

“Everything we’ve learned here about ghouls. Their rules. Their town. The fact there are half-ghouls even fucking possible…  That whole thing with that kid last night just tore away any covering up we could have attempted. Reborn fucked off to your dad, who is definitely going to freak the hell out. Iemitsu and his fucking wife. Tsuyoshi and all the shit he’s been saying to me. That fucking kid Takeshi and, hell, Xanxus, what the fuck was that this morning when I walked up to that shitty house? What were you doing with that storm brat?” Squalo lifted his head towards the end, where his questions picked up along with his sharp tone. He scowled at Xanxus, letting go of his hand so he could fold his arms tight over his chest. 

“Don’t think to hard about it,” Xanxus said, “I just felt sorry for that brat. His boss could be dying, it turns out all the people he cared for are ghouls and I doubt he’s gotten a good night’s sleep in weeks. If ever. He was up half the night and even when he slept he kept twisting around with nightmares.”

Squalo stared at him. And stared at him. And stared at him.

“What the fuck is it now, trash,” Xanxus snapped, kicking at his shin. Squalo shied back, just out of range and shook his head as if to clear it.

Readjusting his hat, Squalo asked, “Do I want to know why you know that kid’s sleeping habit?”

“You little shit,” Xanxus sneered, “That brat’s fourteen. If  _ you’re  _ too old for your shitty little boyfriend, I’m sure as hell too old for that fucker. He’s a lonely, traumatized teenager whose whole world is crashing down around his ears right now.” He waved a hand flippantly, “He climbed into bed with me, middle of the night, thinking I was his damn boss for some damn reason. I wasn’t about to shove him out.”

Squalo outright gaped at him. “He climbed into bed with you  _ and you let him stay?”  _ He lurched forward, grabbing Xanxus by the shoulders and shaking him, “Who are you and what have you done to the boss? Tell me the ghouls in this fucked up place can’t fuck with personalities too!?”

Xanxus punched Squalo in the gut, making him wheeze for breath and double over. “Quit wasting time on being so fucking surprised I’ve got a goddamn heart, shithead. Gokudera’s more like us than any of the other fucks in this place. He came from Italy, lost family to Italian ghouls and even spent time in a fucking Mafia school.” He shoved Squalo away from himself and stepped away from the window, “As for what we’re going to do next-”

The door opened, cutting him off. One of the paired women stepped in. This was the one that had walked off to escort the boys to Sawada’s room. Xanxus could only separate her from her counterpart visually by the slanted cut to her bangs. Hers were cut at an angle with the left longer than the right. The woman that had escorted them had bangs cut at the opposite angle. Otherwise, they were completely identical.

She looked over the room, and them, with the eyes of someone trained to search out threat. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end when she gave him and Squalo the same amount of interest as she did the bunched up curtains at the end of the large windows. Stepping aside, she held the door open for a different woman. 

Xanxus straightened up at the sight of her. Her dark hair was tucked back away from her face with golden pins. She wore a cream colored blouse with small birds stitched in dark blue at the hems of her long sleeves. She swept into the room, her footsteps oddly silent despite the modest heels she wore. She looked so much like the young ghoul Hibari that Xanxus knew without a doubt she was his mother. 

Her dark eyes held no emotion; her face held no expression. She looked them over, first Xanxus and then Squalo. Giving a slight nod, she crossed over to the table in the center of the conference room they occupied. “Gentlemen,”  she said politely as she drew out her own seat, “please sit down. We have quite a lot to discuss.”

Without looking to Squalo, Xanxus took the seat opposite of the woman. They sat at roughly the same time. Squalo, however, refused to sit. He took off the hat from his head and tucked it under his jacket like a handgun into the back of his waistband. Resting his metal hand on the back of Xanxus’s chair, Squalo stood to his right in silence. 

The woman inclined her head slightly. Her dark hair slid over her shoulder like a waterfall of ink. She brushed it back absently, smiling, “My name is Hibari Chikai. It is a pleasure to finally make the acquaintance of Xanxus, the Boss of the Varia, and his right hand man, Squalo Superbi, the Sword Emperor. I do hope that I will be able to meet the rest of your guardians as well.” 

Xanxus frowned, “Perhaps.” He rested his hands on the table, resisting the urge to drum his fingers on the glossy top. He focused his attention on the woman across the table from him and not the mirror images of her guards standing on either side of her table. “It seems we won’t be leaving Namimori on schedule. I take it you had something to do with that?”

“Hardly,” she replied, “My involvement in Namimori’s politics is minimal at best. It is only because the current potentate has called me in that I am here at all. This affair requires a certain amount of… finesse and emotional distance that he recognizes himself unable to accomplish at this time.” Chikai folded her hands together, giving a charming smile and a tilt of her head. “His growth is ever increasing, and while this is definitely a difficult situation, it is an invaluable experience to him.”

Xanxus grit his teeth for a moment, carefully thinking over her words. Squalo had said that the Hibari teen was in control of Namimori, but to have it confirmed with such finality… Not for the first time did Xanxus wish he hadn’t come here- or at the very least had sent someone like Lussuria ahead to gather intel. 

Walking into this situation with only what Iemitsu had told him had caused all of this. “Well, I’m glad he’s learning.” Xanxus deliberately took deep breaths to keep calm. Chikai watched him with eyes that barely blinked and when they did, the gesture was slow and purposeful, as if she chose that moment to blink. “How long will my guardians and I be forced to stay in Namimori?”

“Lussuria-san, Levi A Than-san and Prince Belphegor have permission to leave at their predetermined schedule. You and Squalo-san are to remain. Perhaps not permanently, but for an indefinite amount of time. That is what was decided by those who hold your body rights.”

Xanxus grunted in annoyance, “Even though we’re foreign? Even though we never agreed to these laws? We’re not citizens of Namimori, we never accepted being subjected to the laws here.”

“Be glad that you have been taken in,” Chikai said cooly, her eyes half closing, “And by such strong members of our society. Were you to have caused such chaos in this town while being unbound, the room we would be having this discussion in would have steel tables and concrete floors.” She flicked her fingers dismissively towards the comfortable furniture around them. They sat in high backed, padded chairs at either end of a table made of dark, glossy wood. “You’ve caused my son an incredible amount of harm and distress. You have instigated an emotional reaction in Nana that I have not seen since Tsunayoshi was five. You have even tangled Tsuyoshi’s pride and joy into your net and lead to Ryouhei’s injuries.

“Your hands have quite a lot of ghoulish blood on them, Xanxus-san, and I do not appreciate how much of my pack has bled and wept because of you.” 

Xanxus grimaced. He had a feeling she wasn’t just talking about the ghouls he’d injured here with that first statement. Knowing he was Varia, and therefore associated with the Vongola, had to be a clue. Actually…

“I have a question,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “How did Reborn even start training Sawada to be the boss of the Vongola, let alone get him involved in the ring battles? The Vongola are not secret about their fear and hatred of ghouls.” 

“Their name is not so widely known that it is instantaneously recognized by my son upon first hearing. That, and Reborn’s first actions included only himself, Tsuna and the young Gokudera boy. Nana approved of him learning how to fight and to bringing Gokudera into her household. By the time most of the guardians had been acquired, there was too much pressure for Tsuna to carry on his path for him to simply give it up.” Chikai sighed silently, the action only visible from the heavy rise and fall of her chest. “It was not Reborn’s words that convinced us to allow him to participate. It was Tsuna’s.

“His goal was to succeed as Tenth and bring reformation to the Vongola. Those were his words. We considered it a noble goal, and one that he could accomplish with those of his guardians and pack that he had gathered around himself.” She held up her hand and one of her attendants placed a folder into it. Placing it on the table, she slid it across. “We had even begun observing the local area so we could know what kind of measures to take in the reform. After all, Vongola is only the current head of the beast. Remove it without replacing it and the lesser heads will quibble and fight over who has the right to be the strongest again.

“It was our intention to assist Tsuna’s reformation. Until his goals changed, that is.” 

Xanxus took the file and flipped it open. It was full of pages with notes and glossy photos paperclipped in place. The photos were of people: humans and ghouls, and some were faces he knew from his father’s group. He looked it over quickly, but nothing readily jumped out at him. Passing it to Squalo so he could continue the conversation, he said, “I understand wanting to reform the Vongola to better assist ghouls in the area, but doing so thoroughly would require a slaughter in its own right.”

“We are aware of that.”

“I’m not going to sit by and let you kill my father and his people.” Xanxus scowled at her, and scowled even harder when she didn’t react to his anger. “I don’t care what sort of claim you think you have. He is my family and I’ll protect him.”

She shook her head slightly, “It does not matter anymore. It’s clear that Tsuna’s goals have  changed. After all, he gave you his half of the ring, did he not?” 

The Sky ring was a heavy weight in Xanxus’s pocket. He hadn’t yet put it on, had really forgotten about it until that moment. His fingers flexed against the desire to reach down and touch it. “He did.”

“And then, to further refuse the position, Tsuna attempted to end his life. Something has changed for him. We’re not quite sure what, since he was aware the Vongola disliked ghouls-”

“Iemitsu,” Squalo said suddenly, interrupting her. He shut the folder with a snap. Chikai looked at him, one brow arched, implying for him to continue. “Sawada Iemitsu isn’t in this folder at all. You don’t have any information on him?”

“We do, we just have separate observations for that man.” 

Squalo looked to Xanxus. “The kid was shocked when you told him about his old man and the twenty, Boss. That’s gotta be what happened. He found out about Iemitsu’s ghoul loathing.” 

“His what?”

Xanxus sighed. How many times was he going to tear open this wound? Hardly a year had gone by since he’d had to kill the Twenty. Rubbing his forehead, he said, “Let me see if I can explain, really explain, the fucking situation with the Vongola and Sawada.” He closed his eyes and began to recount, in even more detail than he’d given the kids, Iemitsu’s hand in killing his subordinates. In how the Vogonla’s only direct heirs, besides himself, had been murdered by ghouls. In how Iemitsu’s deep loathing of ghouls had lead to all of this- right down to him trying to stop Tsunayoshi from becoming the mafia leader to spare him from dealing with them.

Chikai’s expression was hard as granite as he spoke. Her hands, one folded on top of the other, were white knuckled in her grip as Xanxus explained Iemitsu’s stance. Xanxus hardly knew the cause of it himself, but the fallout was more than clear.

When he’d finished, Chikai murmured, “I appreciate your words. If you’ll excuse me, I must go speak with Nana.” She stood and nodded to one of her women. “Accompany these two until their proper pack can pick them up. Do not let them leave the hospital.”

Squalo made a noise to dispute it. Chikai silenced him with a narrowed, black eyed glare. “Have patience,” she instructed, “I would like to treat you as allies. We will speak again, soon, but some decisions must be made as promptly as possible. Iemitsu will, undoubtedly, be returning to Namimori- no matter what Reborn says to Nono. Whether he bring an army or just himself, we must prepare.”

Xanxus shrugged, “Fine. If we can’t leave the hospital, can you have my other guardians brought here? I have to speak with them.” 

Chikai considered this and the nodded. She turned and walked out of the room. The guard that remained stood at the door on the inside this time, hands tucked behind herself. Squalo clicked his tongue and dropped into the chair beside Xanxus. “I don’t like this,” he said, “They’re going to mobilize against your father and we can’t warn him.”

“If Timoteo stays in Italy, it’ll be fine. Chances are Reborn didn’t disclose everything so he’ll send Iemitsu ahead with a group to scope everything out,” Xanxus said, “From there we can determine what to do.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “Besides, Tsunayoshi is still unconscious. We really can’t do or plan anything until he’s either all the way conscious again or, fuck, dies for real. If he even can do that.”

Squalo opens the folder again, giving himself something to do. “Look at these,” he said, shoving over some of the pages. “Really look at them. It’s fairly comprehensive. We’ll need them if we continue with your idea of bringing back ghouls into the Varia.”

Xanxus nodded and began to read over the findings. In the back of his mind he considered his options, the actions of others based on what he knew, and what his orders would be for Lussuria and the others. Since he and Squalo were both stuck in Namimori, for the time being, it would be up to his sun to manage the Varia. He knew he could trust him, though. Even if the worst came about, Lussuria held Xanxus’s trust. 

It was up to Xanxus not to betray that.

 

* * *

 

The afternoon light warmed Tsuna’s hospital room to a cosy degree. Takeshi blinked when he walked back into it, ignoring the way Hibari silently dismissed Kusakabe.

He ached from their fight on the roof and from the Hunt they’d gone on shortly afterwards, but it was a good kind of ache. His muscles were warmed and in a few places there were bruises. After all, when he and Hibari went hunting, they took down aggressive prey.

The taste of blood was still in his mouth as he wandered over to the bed. Gokudera sat up when he arrived, giving him a wary look before sighing and returning to his previous position. He had his arms folded on the bed, his chin resting on them a he sleepily watched over Tsuna’s body. 

“His face got better,” Takeshi said as he hopped up onto the end of the bed by Tsuna’s feet. Hibari prowled around to the other side and took his place again at Tsuna’s side. He eyed them like he was annoyed that they were both there but Takeshi knew it was only reflexive eye-ing. Hibari had fed as much as he had and they were both much more relaxed after getting out in the sunlight for a while. 

“Yeah, about an hour ago,” Gokudera mumbled, “The nurse came to check and said he’s definitely recovering.”

“Anything else?”

Gokudera shook his head, “Not about Tsuna. Ryouhei came by, though. He’s already getting discharged. He took Lambo home with him, because he’s recovered too. It’s just Tsuna left.”

Hibari silently took one of Tsuna’s hands in his own. He had removed his brace for their fight and their Hunt and hadn’t replaced it. Takeshi watched as Hibari flexed his left hand a few times before settling it over Tsuna’s. He had noticed a strange hesitance in the limb, but figured Hibari was taking care of it. Yawning, Takeshi stretched his arms over his head and then said, “Wake me up when Tsuna get’s up. I’m taking a nap.”

“Oi, idiot,” Gokudera lifted his head to glare at him. Takeshi stuck out his tongue and continued to arrange himself on the end of the bed. Tsuna was short enough that there was plenty of space.

“Leave him be,” Hibari commanded. 

They glared at each other for a while before Gokudera huffed and closed his eyes, turning his head away.  Takeshi rolled his eyes and closed them, settling down to sleep properly. He knew he wouldn’t be the only one asleep in a few minutes and the thought made him smile. Tsuna, even unconscious, was the most comforting thing to them all. 

_ Wake up, Tsuna. Wake up, please. I need to know you’re going to be okay. I need you back.  _

_ We all do. _

 

* * *

 

It was evening by the time Xanxus made his way to the boy’s hospital room. He was hungry and antsy, annoyed at having spent all day in the hospital despite the fact that it had been productive to speak with his guardians. Squalo walked silently with him. Their escort was a few steps behind.

He entered the room silently, expecting, well, anything really.

What he got was both ridiculous and somewhat heart wrenching. Asleep, the four teens looked younger and more vulnerable than they did awake. Two of them had bruising that he hadn’t seen before, one was Gokudera who had somehow ended up half on the bed with Sawada’s hand on his head and the last was-

Brown eyes met his as Sawada blinked up at him. “Shh,” he murmured, his voice so dry it was like a touch of ash. “Don’t wake them… They need to sleep.” 

Xanxus moved into the room silently. Squalo followed, eyes widening but also silent at the sight. Yamamoto was curled up at the foot of the bed like a dog at his master’s feet. Hibari had fallen asleep with his head bowed over Sawada’s hand in his lap, his hair hanging down and covering his face. Gokudera’s fist was tightly wrapped in the sheet over Sawada’s chest. 

Once inside, Xanxus grimaced and said, “It’s better to get them up now. The ring battles may be over, but this isn’t the end, kid. Reborn left, probably to go back to my dad and report to him. You need to get your guardians up and start figuring out what the hell you’re going to do.”

“Not guardians,” Sawada said. “My pack. Guardians are Vongola. I am not going to be Vongola.” He grinned, showing enough teeth that it set Xanxus on edge. He could easily recall the way those teeth had snapped down on his earlobe and how easily they could have snapped down on his jugular instead at the same angle. 

“I will never be Vongola,” Sawada whispered, “No one will.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Due to popular demand, this fic is updated weekly Sat or Sun. (or Friday the 13th that one time lol)


End file.
